Frequency
by Mizander
Summary: When the Tallests concoct a sick plot to rid themselves of Zim once and for all, Dib goes on a rescue mission. Meantime, the Resisty recruits new members, as the battlegrounds for the war of the Universe is laid. Chapter 9. Finally.
1. Chapter One

**Title:** Frequency  
**Author:** Mizander  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Summary:** When the Tallests concoct a sick plot to rid themselves of Zim once and for all, Dib goes on a rescue mission. Meantime, the Resisty recruits new members, as the battlegrounds for the war of the Universe is laid.  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own Zim. That honour belongs to Jhonen Vasquez and Nickolodeon  
  
**Chapter One**  
  
"This is Invader Zim, sig---"  
  
A long digit flicked out and cut the transmission before Zim could even finish his sentence. There was silence aboard the control deck of the Massive, as Tallest Red's expression crossed that fine line between exceptionally disgusted to royally pissed.  
  
"You know what I'd like ZIM to do?" the Irken leader exploded, kicking out angrily with his foot and sending a small service drone squealing across the room in the process. "I'd like for him to go --"  
  
"RED!" Purple yelled.  
  
"...What?"  
  
"There are smeets present. Watch your mouth."  
  
Red grumbled something under his breath about being able to do whatever he liked, but sat down in the captain's chair and crossed his arms over his chest, still looking vaguely harassed. "Look." He began, narrating to Purple as though speaking to a small child. "We sent Zim to earth, hoping he'd be killed. He wasn't. So we decided to use him for a cheap laugh. Instead, we've just lost monies, a perfectly good Megadoomer, have had to spend even MORE monies on rescuing one of the REAL invaders, and completely embaressed ourselves in the face of a resistance movement that didn't even have a cool name."  
  
Purple shrugged. "Yeah, but you've said yourself that it would be way too much effort, not to mention a waste of our precious time to hold a proper criminal trial for Zim. Just forget about it. This conversation is boring me, and I think someone just made doughnuts."  
  
The co-leader of the Irken Empire hovered away in hopeful search of the doughnuts, but he was startled back to reality by the sound of Red's fist banging hard onto the table. "No, No, Not forgetting about it. See? This is me, NOT forgetting about it. We? Are the leaders of the Irken empire. We do not need to have a proper criminal trial for Zim if we don't want to. My plan? We lure him to some backwater planet, rip his pod off, stab him in the back with something extremely sharp and pointy a few times, and no more problem."  
  
"Yeah yeah. Sounds great. Doughnuts now?"  
  
"Doughnuts now."

* * *

Far, far away in another galaxy entirely and completely unaware of what exactly he was getting himself into - Dib Membrane was wasting his time briefing anyone who would listen on his latest plan to trap his personal alien menace. Unfortunately for him, the only person who was in the vicinity was his sister, and she was definitely not interested.  
  
"...So I thought to myself, if Zim's going to find all of the bugs I plant in his base AND he's increased his security so I can't get in, how can I get any proof that he's an alien at all? Then, it hit me! Gaz! Are you listening!?"  
  
"Not bloody likely." Gaz groused, wincing horribly as her vampire piggy hunter character took a rather nasty hit on the screen of the GameSlave 2.  
  
Not bothering to wait for a response to the question, Dib pressed on. "It's simple! I first heard of Zim's arrival through a radio broadcast from the roof! If I could just tap into the signal he's using, I could hear all of his plans!" With mounting excitement, a new thought occured to him. "I might even get to hear a conversation with his LEADERS!"  
  
Hopping up from her seat, Dib's nightmare of a sister overturned the remains of her can of soda on his head and stormed from the room.  
  
"Ah well..." Dib sighed in defeat, reaching under the rims of his glasses to wipe a trickle of poop cola from the bridge of his nose. The world and Zim could wait until he had had a shower.  
  
Fifteen minutes later, Dib had hooked up and tested his new broadcasting equipment. He'd gotten it second-hand, but the larger satellite dish would give him a clearer transmission than the one he had used several years prior. While that part of the plan had held up well, he couldn't seem to find Zim's signal. Maybe the alien was using some kind of technology that couldn't be picked up on a radio frequency. Twiddling a few knobs hopelessly, Dib was ready to write the whole endeavour off as a failed experiment when a very familiar yell exploded in his eardrums, making him jump.  
  
"MY TALLEST! You will be MOST delighted to hear of my latest plan! But I will need your assistance!"  
  
Dib perked up. He'd done it. He was successfully eavesdropping on Zim's conversation with his leaders. Quickly, he turned on the recorder next to the computer. He'd have to catch every word if he wanted sufficient proof for the Swollen Eyeball.  
  
"What is it NOW Zim?" The replying voice had a lazy lilt to it, but sounded exceptionally angry.  
  
"Yes Zim, what mind-numbing torture are you going to put us through this time?" The higher voice, Dib acctually recognized from the brief opportunity he'd had to be in the base without Zim around. GIR had contacted the Tallest during that time too. Dib was about to explode with excitement. This here was genuine.  
  
Apparently completely oblivious to his leader's less-than-cheerful mood, Zim ploughed on. "I will require..." and here Zim listed off the names of a number of items that Dib could only guess the use of. He ended it with a typical melodramatic exposition about the extent of the firepower being enough to decimate the human race.  
  
For the first time, Dib was worried. Despite the stupidity of the Megadoomer, that thing had looked quite capable of causing the amounts of mass destruction it was designed for had it had the proper batteries. Zim had just ordered literal dozens of these whatevertheywere machines of destruction, and he was willing to bet that his leaders would not make the same mistake twice. Even if he DID manage to get the tape off to the proper authorities and assuming they did believe him - what defense did Earth have against another Megadoomer-class machine - let alone thirty?  
  
He had to act fast.  
  
"...This is Invader Zim, Signing Off!"  
  
There was a horrible static crackle and Dib ripped off his headphones, slamming them down onto the table and fumbling to get the tape out of the recorder at the same time, when he heard a rather loud profanity issue through the white noise. Frantic as he was, Dib curiously placed the earpieces back on.  
  
"...watch your mouth."  
  
Dib raised an eyebrow, and re-activated the recording, resuming his seat. Somehow, he'd managed to piggyback onto the Massive's frequency from monitoring Zim's. Thank goodness he had too, as this might give him an idea of how much time they would have to prepare before Zim's arsenal arrived on the planet. 

To his shock, the conversation that followed wasn't the 'Hey, so let's get that stuff to Zim so he can destroy the stinking humans' spiel he'd been expecting, but rather the two leaders of the empire seemed decidedly...pissed off. At Zim.

A thousand thoughts as to why popped into his mind, but none of them even came close to covering the truth, let alone taking into consideration the idea that...they were planning to kill him? And without a trial? Evidently Zim's people knew what one was - they were just talking about forgoing that particular proceedure.

"...Lure him to some backwater planet and stab him in the back a few times..."

Stab him in the back a few times? Dib felt sick. The transmission chose that moment to fail again, and Dib was thankful - as his stomach quite forcibly demanded a trip to the bathroom to relieve him of it's contents.

* * *

So Zim's mission was a fake. Zim's mission was a fake. All this time, the little alien had been living a lie, and Dib had seriously thought he was a threat to earth. That should have been a giant laugh, but instead Dib felt ill. What kind of sick twists would get rid of someone in that way?  
  
On the other hand, it was Zim. Horrible, evil...doomed to a gory, horrid...doom Zim.  
  
He could just keep an eye on Zim at school like he always did, Dib resolved. The Tallest had been lax about Zim in the past - perhaps their idea was just a passing fancy and they would instead just forget about the wannabe soldier they had dumped on earth.  
  
"Son! Stop talking to yourself! I don't want to hear any more insanity before I've had my coffee and toast!"  
  
Dib blinked. Had he really been saying all that aloud? "Sorry Dad!"  
  
Shortly thereafter, Dib joined his father and sister in the kitchen where he wisely kept his mouth shut all through breakfast. He walked to school at top-speed, something Gaz was greatful for, and raced into the classroom, narrowly missing ploughing into Torque Smacky.  
  
Although he waited through the entirety of homeroom period, Zim did not show up all day.  
  
"He's up to something." Dib told himself firmly. "I'm ONLY going over after school to find out what it is, and to stop him once and for all. YES!"  
  
As three-thirty rolled around, Dib was out the skool doors before the bell had finished sounding.  
  
Zim's highly out of place green house stood there in the middle of the court-like street, looking as normal as ever it did. The window too was left open. Dib took all this in as a good sign. Nonetheless, there was only one way to find out for sure. Screwing up his courage, he took a deep breath, raced across the gnome-field and landed flat on his back.  
  
He nearly choked in shock when something dripped on his forehead. To his immediate relief, he found it not to be an alien poison from a Zim-rigged trap, but rather taco-sauce that was running down the paw of it's owners' dog-suit.  
  
"Zim's...little...robot-dog thingy!" Dib demanded. "Uh...GIR. Where's Zim?"  
  
The SIR unit gave Dib a look of total oblivious bliss and smiled wide. "Master is running wiiiillllld and freeeee, the way God intended!"  
  
Dib stared blankly, wondering in earnest how a robot would know anything about a God, when the mission at hand came back to mind. "GIR! Think HARDER. Where did your Master GO?"  
  
This time the robot seemed more focussed. "Master went into outerspace! He's going to have a parrrrtyyyyyyy, where they're going to make his head explooooode!" GIR looked suddenly downcast. "I wanted to explooooode too."  
  
Dib barely listened to the last part (which included a lot of insane giggles and screaming) - his mind was working furiously. So he had heard correctly. They were really going to off Zim. He had to go after him. He had to stop them.  
  
"GIR! You have to come to my house. You have to help me pilot Tak's ship! We MUST rescue Zim."  
  
"Okeeedokkeee big-head boy!"  
  
"My head's not big!" Dib retorted out of habit - though his mind was elsewhere. Why exactly, was he about to go after his worst enemy to STOP his demise?  
  
'Because,' said the logical part of his brain, 'it's the honorable thing to do.' Dib knew this at least to be true. Whether or not Zim's plans made any sense - and they never did - Zim had become Dib's equal. To have his rival destroyed by someone who was not HIM was a complete outrage. Besides, as he had thought many times prior, this was a pretty freaking sick way of getting rid of someone. Yes, even Zim.  
  
As the little SIR unit pointed them in the direction of the Irken empire, Dib stuck his headphones on, mentally congratulating himself on remembering that the survival essentials included something that would allow him to block out the sounds of insanity that would constantly come his way if travelling with GIR.  
  
He was so deep in the sounds of his favorite band, that he did not notice the ship proximity warning flashing on the control panel.  
  
The Irken vessel was being watched. 


	2. Chapter Two

Title: Frequency  
**Author:** Mizander  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Disclaimer:** Invader Zim is the collective property of Jhonen Vasquez and Nickolodeon. Unfortunately, it's not mine – I'm just borrowing the characters for my own sick and twisted, but non-profit acquiring ends.  
  
**Chapter Two:  
**  
For once, Dib had thought as he taped the note explaining his whereabouts on the fridge, his father's negligence and his sister's lack of interest in anything that didn't involve jump buttons and special moves was going to come in very handy. Skool wasn't a problem either as only a week remained until the summer holidays began. Even if this had not been the case, no principal would dare to distract the great Professor Membrane from his 'REAL SCIENCE' for something as trivial as his son's absence slip. Following this train of thought, he began to wonder if anyone would even miss him or indeed, if he would even return at all.  
  
"Well that's a bit morbid." he muttered to himself, switching the song over to one a more upbeat tune and drumming his fingers on the control panel in time to the music, attempting to relax. His mission was beginning to seem less honourable and more crazy the further away he got from home. He didn't even have a lead to go on considering the Irken leaders' plan had been pretty vague. The only person who had even been remotely close to confirming Zim's whereabouts was GIR. Not the most reliable source, but then Dib had never been one to ignore the important things like gut instinct. He'd never have lasted this long in the field of paranormal investigation if he had. So, here he was - already millions of miles away from his home planet, with a deranged robot, a couple of CD's, an old video-game handheld he'd rescued from the garbage when his sister had purchased the Gameslave 2 and the blinking red lights on his ship's console.  
  
He had long given up on trying to read the communications screen itself, as all of the printouts were in a myriad of squiggles and lines that Dib could only assume comprised the Irken alphabet. He could steer the ship manually and certain voice commands worked in his favor - that was more than enough for now. Next to him GIR bobbed happily, sometimes coming to rest on Dib's head, sometimes sucking his thumb and mouth moving near constantly. As long as he didn't have to listen to the gibberish that spewed forth, and as long as it's automated guidance system remained in working order, Dib was more than happy to allow the SIR unit to do pretty much whatever it pleased.  
  
At this particular moment, GIR felt like singing a song about a rubber pig that had got lodged in a tractor beam - mostly in homage to their current situation, but also because the giant flying burrito had asked him to very politely indeed.  
  
Unable to read the ship's recurring warnings, Dib unfortunately did not realize this predicament until it was much too late. The void of stars outside turned into the cold metal walls of an airlock, and he began to panic as Tak's ship shuddered to a forced halt. The sound of metal scraping on metal permeated even through the intense volume issuing from his headset and his hands shook as he took them off, just in time to hear the cockpit mechanism hiss in protest at being forcibly opened.  
  
The peril of his current situation notwithstanding, Dib could not help but feel a thrill of excitement as his new surroundings were revealed. Never mind Zim - long had he yearned to prove the existence of intelligent alien life, and here sitting in front of him was at least twenty different examples. The only problem was that each of them was toting an impressive set of artillery, most of which was trained on him.  
  
"Get out of the ship you Irken scum, and keep your hands where we can see them!" A short alien with horns that put Dib in mind of a ram stepped forward, levelling a weapon that resembled a gun between Dib's eyes.  
  
Dib breathed a sigh of relief. "I'm not Irken!" he called to them. "I'm Human!"  
  
A few of the number took this pronouncement with an obvious show of relief and perhaps confusion over the 'human' comment, but many more regarded Dib with even greater hostility.  
  
"Don't try to fool us." the ram-horned alien waved his gun threateningly. "That's an Irken vessel you're flying and you have a SIR unit to boot."  
  
"Lard'Nar! Sir! WHOO!" Bobbing at the feet of the horned alien was a small purple cone. "To be fair Sir, he doesn't look like an Irken soldier. That ship isn't in any of our fleet reconnaissance either. In fact, it seems to be a highly modified Spittoon Runner. Our sources tell us that model was discontinued years ago because of a tendency to make it's occupants heads explode!"  
  
"I don't think that SIR unit is ...uh...good...either." added a mantis-like creature as he watched GIR alternate between screaming like a maniac and sucking the corner of the ship's control panel.  
  
Lard'Nar did not lower his gun, but he did pause to think. Despite their ridiculous name, the Resisty did have a very substantial amount of information on the Irkens. Not to mention that the creature in the ship neither acted nor looked like one of the race that were working to systematically bend the galaxy to their will. On the other hand, this was the middle of a war - and he had certainly not worked this hard and this long to be defeated by a stupid oversight.  
  
"Very well. Shloonktapooxis, Spleenk? Take our friend here to the medical ward. Run some tests on him." He then gestured to twin robotic-esque aliens with his free hand. "You two run tests on that ship and that SIR unit. If his story checks out, I may be willing to listen. If not..." he let the threat hang in the air.  
  
The cone-alien and a green-eyed creature approached Dib, flanked by an enormous behemoth with no less than three heads. With the tri-headed alien holding his shoulders in a vice-grip, he had no choice but to be lead away, hoping against hope that this group would listen to him once they proved he wasn't Irken. At least, he consoled his shaking nerves - he had that going for him.  
  
The medical ward of the ship was as Dib expected it to be - filled with white and lots of clean metal, smelling of some form of disinfectant. Dib had not put up a struggle and whether it was because of this or not, his trio of captives was apparently inclined to be reasonably gentle with him.  
  
Bubbling with energy, the cone who had introduced himself almost immediately as the one called Shloonktapooxis hopped up on the table in front of Dib. "One of the Meekroob came up with this method when they captured the invader on their planet. Whoo! What a victory for the Resisty! It's just supposed to take a picture of your organs...but they discovered that when trained on an Irken disguise, it disrupts the effects of whatever machine they use to create them."  
  
Dib nodded, knowing full well that despite sounding friendly, Shloonkatpooxis knew that if his prisoner had indeed been an Irken, that story would have sent him into a panic. He was trying to get an idea of what to prepare himself for before real proof came.  
  
"Anyway - it'll only take a minute, and if you're not an Irken it won't cause you any pain." Without further warning, the alien hopped onto a lever, using his weight to push it down. As he'd said, the screen in the front of the console buzzed to life, a clear picture of Dib's digestive system pulsing brightly above them.  
  
Spleenk made a noise of disgust and turned off the screen hurridly, while Shloonktapooxis made his way over to a communicator to contact Lard'Nar.  
  
"Sir! We did the tests and found that the prisoner is what he says...and definitely not an Irken soldier."  
  
That was how Dib came to find himself explaining the insanity that had started since Zim had come to his home planet of Earth to a room full of aliens. Lard'Nar, whom Dib had rightfully deduced was the leader had filled in the gaps with regards to why Zim had thought he was on a mission to overtake Earth in the first place. Despite the seriousness of the situation, Dib couldn't help but be somewhat delighted. Never before had he had such an attentive and trusting audience. They even oohed and ahhed in the appropriate places.  
  
"Alright then Dib." Lard'Nar said, breaking the collective silence that had followed the end of Dib's tale and rubbing his chin, apparently thinking hard. "I believe I can make you a deal. We will supply you with the tools needed to rescue your Irken, on the grounds that you bring it back to us as a prisoner of war. We could use information from an inside source."  
  
Dib frowned. "Um...you want Zim, after all I've told you about..."  
  
The leader of the Resisty smiled grimly. "You're about to give your Irken a very rude wake-up call. You'd be surprised what some people will do when their backs are against the wall."  
  
Realizing that the shame in the alien's last words was very thinly veiled, Dib did not press the issue further but rather mentally wondered what Zim - provided he was still alive, would think about that development. Deciding not to question it for now, he simply extended his hand. "It's a deal."  
  
While the horned alien headed into the docking bay to see to packing fresh rations and water aboard Tak's ship, Shloonkatpooxis bounded hyperactively across a control panel. Jabbing at random buttons with the point of his cone-body, he began babbling an excited explanation. "Sir Lard'Nar's people are total techies and they got us this sweet uplink hack to the Irken control brains! Somebody try to tell me that is not just THE coolest thing EVER!"  
  
Interested, Dib wandered over. The screen sifted rapidly through a variety of readouts, each showing a different Irken, a few lines of text in the same symbols that were displayed on Tak's ship's printouts as well as a different corporate-like symbol. Slowing down, it eventually arrived on a file that showed a profile picture of an Irken who was unmistakably Zim. Although he couldn't read anything else, Shloonkatpooxis evidently could.  
  
"This file says that this Zim would most likely be headed to Foodcourtia. That was at one time a planet in the...Quarg system I think. As you might guess, it was turned into one giant fast-food chain after the Irkens got at it."  
  
Dib nodded and thanked the cone, then headed to the docking bay. Shloonkatpooxis hadn't been lying when he'd said that the Resisty leader was a techie - as the Vortian had greeted him not only with food and water, but a few basic improvements to the fluidity of the ship's steering and a lightweight laser based handgun to boot.  
  
"I tried to fix your SIR unit...but...well, to be honest it's a miracle that thing works at all." Lard'Nar shook his head. "Are you sure you wouldn't want something else?"  
  
"No." Dib said firmly. "That's Zim's SIR unit, and despite it's...hopeless stupidity, it's the best tool I have for finding him."  
  
"Very well then Dib, Good luck, and remember our deal."  
  
Thanking the Vortian profusely, Dib promised not to forget and was soon on his way once more.  
  
"GIR, set a course for the planet Foodcourtia. We're going to find your master."  
  
The robot's face lit up instantly. "TACOS!" he squealed at the top of his voice. "I like the ones with beans...they..."  
  
Why exactly GIR liked bean filled tacos, Dib never did find out, nor did he care to. Headphones back in place, he allowed the music to lull him to sleep - as GIR navigated the speeding ship towards the planet Foodcourtia.

* * *

Munching their plentiful snacks in satisfaction and completely unaware of Dib's rescue mission, the Tallest were making the best possible use of the time it would take Zim to arrive back on Irk. Namely, plotting the most amusing way of killing him.  
  
"...and then...and then...and then..." Red gasped, clutching his sides and trying in vain to speak through the laughter that threatened to overwhelm him. "...we stab him with the poisonous...thingy...and...we video tape his writhing!"  
  
Purple let out a wail and fell forward, banging his fist on the table as he laughed fit to burst. "Six months? I don't think I can wait that long!"

* * *

**Author's Notes:  
**  
You know, I never read these things myself when I'm reading a fic, but I now understand why so many authors deem it necessary to say thank-you to those who reviewed. Comments, criticisms, questions, concerns, love, hate – all appreciated and definitely incentive to keep going. Thanks so much! I'll try to keep this stuff generally short and at the end in the future as well.  
  
Also - thank you pinky-pseudonym, who pointed out a mistake on my part. As it turns out, I uploaded an older copy of the first chapter of this story when I posted it, and it happened to be missing some information. If you care to read it again, I encourage you to. 


	3. Chapter Three

**Title:** Frequency  
**Author:** Mizander  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Disclaimer:** All this time, and I still don't own it. I'm worse than Zim. Anyway - Invader Zim still belongs to Jhonen Vasquez and Nickelodeon.  
  
**Chapter Three:**

Despite his rocky start, the next five and a half months had been relatively uneventful as the cruiser drifted uninterrupted into, and then right through the ever-expanding Irken territory. Thankfully for Dib, who couldn't have known such information, Tak had outfitted her patchwork ship with an engine more powerful than was normally found in even the newer Irken voot cruisers. All in all, it had shaved an extra fifteen days off the journey - a luckier thing than he knew, given his time constraints.  
  
As they entered the planet's gravitational pull, Dib was snoozing while slouched deep in the pilot's seat. This was both a position and pastime he'd adopted for most of the trip - far more than usual after his batteries and food supply had run down to the bare bones. GIR on the other hand had not been bored once during the entire course of the voyage, and he shivered with renewed excitement as the brightly flashing advertisements and neon-colored restaurant signs of Foodcourtia captured his attention. So entranced by these things was he, he nearly crashed the Cruiser during his landing. As it was, the trash bins behind the Gulp and Blow Nacho House would never be the same.  
  
The sudden jolt stirred Dib out of his sleep, and he jumped in surprise at once more seeing unfamiliar surroundings, banging his head on the roof of the cockpit. It slid open, revealing what had to be the most enormous display of cheap advertising and cheap food he'd ever seen. It was almost as though the architect for this planet had tried to create a tangible version of the internet. The internet, strategically placed right in the middle of a mall food court.  
  
Maneuvering the ship quickly into a parking space, Dib set foot on the planet's surface, eager for a chance to stretch his legs. After five and a half months in space, all of his limbs felt like jello at first, but they slowly regained their strength as he began to walk. Dozens of aliens wandered past him, none of them Zim and all of them too preoccupied with shoveling food in their faces to notice his stares, which, he decided was probably for the best.  
  
Meandering uncertainly along the rows of eateries, Dib peered in the windows, unsure of where to begin his search, and hoping against hope that he would find Zim in one of the many stores - eating a...well, whatever passed for normal nutritional staples among the Irkens. With the exception of that waffle incident, he didn't think he'd ever really seen Zim eat anything at all.  
  
As he passed by a particularly tacky place, bearing a bright neon green sign with the words "Schloogorgh's: The Flavour Monster" flashing brilliantly above, a creature manning the cash register caught his immediate attention. Short, obviously Irken and red eyes shining through a pair of goggles, Dib could barely believe his good fortune. He'd barely been here five minutes and already he'd found Zim.  
  
Bursting through the energy field that served as a door, a pleasant sounding chime echoed through the restaurant as he weaved his way through the maze of booths and tables.  
  
"Hey! Zim!" He called aloud, but the counter-server did not even look up.  
  
Seconds later, he also found himself flat on his back, staring up into a scarred pair of purple eyes, narrowed in an angry scowl.  
  
"What do you mean by shouting that ACCURSED name in MY establishment?" roared the creature - which Dib, backing up in his fright now saw was one hell of an enormous Irken.  
  
"Er..." Under that penetrating gaze, Dib just decided to try for something resembling the truth. "I saw someone else and mistook them for...that...person."  
  
The Irken, whose name-tag read 'Sizz-Lor', regarded him suspiciously for a moment, but then smirked, offering him a hand. Confused by the sudden change in demeanor, Dib wisely decided not to question a creature that could probably crush him like a bug, and took the proffered help. "Uh...I'm sorry."  
  
"Heh. Well, I can only assume you're a head-hunter of some kind, 'cause no one in their right mind would ever want to be associated with Zim."  
  
Dib let out a cough and ran with it. "Er, yeah. That's right. Headhunter. Say, you don't suppose you can help me? Y'know, with the Head-hunting, and all?"  
  
Sizz-Lor's scarred face twisted, as though recalling some particularly painful memory. Then, he shook his head. "Well, I'm sorry there little guy, but I swore a long time ago I'd have no more to do with that annoyance. Plus, I've got a restaurant to run." He slapped Dib on the back heartily, making him fall to his knees a second time. "But just for undertaking some particularly noble work, I'll give you a discount." He set Dib upright a second time, and gave him a gentler shove towards the counter, then turned abruptly and stomped off into the kitchens.  
  
Drawing close to the counter, (he didn't want to anger Sizz-Lor again) he came face to face with the Irken and could see now that it wasn't in fact Zim. Although it had the same buggy red eyes as most of them did, it also had antennae which curled under at the ends - putting him more in mind of Tak. Perhaps this one was another female.  
  
"Hello there! Welcome to Schloogorgh's, what can I get you?"  
  
Dib took a moment to process this. Having only ever been in contact with two members of the Irken race, both of whom had been hell-bent on eradicating his species and taking over his planet, it sent his mind reeling to come across one who was not only saccharine-sweet, but also apparently subservient.  
  
"Uh...I didn't really..." Dib felt rather stupid. He was hungry, and he did have money, but he also hadn't been intending to make an order when he entered the restaurant, and he further wasn't sure what this food would do to his digestive system given that most Earth food was like acid to Irkens. "I thought you were someone else." he concluded lamely.  
  
Her eyes widened a little, and a hint of testiness crept into that customer service-based friendliness. "OH." Seeming to struggle with herself a bit, she eventually fixed her face into a more neutral expression and addressed him again with a credible attempt at politeness. "Um, I'm sorry, but I overheard your conversation with my Frylord. I think I might be able to help you a little...but you'll have to wait until I go on my break in...an hour. We can meet out back, by the garbage disposal. I can't talk about it in here, the Frylord wouldn't like it much."  
  
A thousand things went through Dib's mind. Evidently she realized who he had mistaken her for. Should he apologize? She seemed a little upset. Maybe she was going to base helping him on whether or not he did. On the other hand, she seemed a bit afraid of her boss. Hell, HE was definitely afraid of her boss. Maybe it would be a worse idea to bring any of this up at all in front of him again.  
  
"Um...so...what do I do until then?" he settled on asking.  
  
She gave him a strange look. "Well, there is only one thing you can do on Foodcourtia. What can I get you?"  
  
Finishing up his nachos (which evidently were fit for human consumption), Dib stretched and looked at his watch. He had about five minutes to walk around the restaurant, and as he did, he found the counter-girl already waiting for him. She looked very similar to almost every other Irken he'd seen, though slightly less bizzare without her enormous Schloogorgh's hat and goggles.  
  
"So." he said, by way of greeting. "You said you'd help me with Zim?"  
  
"I don't know how much I can help. But I knew Zim, yes. He was at one time, an Invader. Most of us want to be Invaders, you know. So did I - but I failed the test and was encoded into Food-services. Zim, on the other hand...well, he screwed up, and they sent him here as punishment. No pay or anything like that."  
  
Dib nodded. A lot of what he'd heard coming out of Zim's leaders was starting to make sense. "Um, so...then what?" he pressed.  
  
"So, Zim worked here as kind of a glorified slave. Then, our Tallest wished to make a second attempt at conquest. As far as we know, Zim was watching the broadcast of the Great Assigning on TV, and just...left...apparently under the delusion that he was still encoded as an Invader or something of the like. We all watched it... we all got a pretty good laugh out of it. Except for our Frylord of course, Zim was good help…cause he was unpaid, like I said before. Our Tallest sent him to some planet in the far reaches of the galaxy just to shut him up. They didn't even think there was going to be a planet there in the first place. I guess there was, and he survived there somehow. Thought he was going to take it over. Kept on bothering Our Tallest for supplies. Weapons. Food. Stuff like that. Our Tallest will only put up with things like that for so long you know. They're busy. I don't know all of what's happening now, but they did send for him back."  
  
Seizing upon this, Dib perked up and cut her off mid-ramble. "Where do you think they're taking him now?"  
  
"Well...there's a security hold in the Vortian system." said the counter-girl thoughtfully. "I would think they'd take him there. As a prisoner maybe...maybe they'll even delete his life-force from his pak. Depends on how badly they judge his crimes I suppose."  
  
"Thanks a lot." Dib said, trying not to wince at the casual tone with which the last was delivered. "...just, one more thing."  
  
"Oh, yes?"  
  
"Well, if you wanted to be an Invader so bad, why didn't you just run out with Zim when he left? Or go to your Tallest and ask for a mission like he did?"  
  
The expression on the Irken's face changed from mild to enraged so fast that Dib backed up a few steps. "What do you mean by such an insult!?" she roared, dropping her low-class lilt and sounding for all the world like Tak or Zim on one of their 'pitiful human' rants. "I am no defect! I serve my Frylord and my Tallest as the best cashier this galaxy has to offer!"  
  
"Sorry, sorry." Dib said, putting up his hands in a placating gesture. "Didn't mean to offend. I don't have much experience with Irkens, I've only known Zim...and he does what he wants, when he wants."  
  
The Irken still looked angry, but seemed to calm somewhat. "Zim's a defective. He's going to have to face up to that someday. If he's lucky, maybe they'll just stick him back here at Schloogorgh's. I have to get back to work. I can't say it's been a pleasure talking with you, but then, you are foreign alien filth." Her face softened a little. "I'm sorry, I guess that was a bit harsh of me. See? That's why they tell me I couldn't be an Invader. I'm too soft. That, and I'm not supposed to talk down to the customers. Anyway, I'll see you around sometime, maybe."  
  
Ambling back inside, the heavy back door of the fast-food restaurant swung shut behind her, and Dib was left alone with his thoughts and another journey ahead of him. Perhaps the Irken cashier hadn't been able to give him the precise location of Zim, but she had painted an incredibly clear picture of her people's Empire. It also explained a lot it seemed, about what had happened in the past few years on Earth between himself and his missing nemesis. Judging by her reaction to any inference that she would be anything but a Cashier, and a good one - it must have been much easier for someone like Zim to block out any such idea that he could ever be anything but an Invader. The ego, the posturing...everything about the so-called alien menace was as clear as day.  
  
Instead of anger however, Dib felt overwhelmed by pity, and all the more resolve to find Zim before he was put to death in such a horrific fashion.  
  
Time to see if his cashier-girl's advice was of any value.

* * *

**Author's Notes:**  
  
Again, a thank-you for the reviews. Please give generously. Personally, I don't like this chapter as much as the others - this is what I call a 'purpose and drive' chapter...but things will pick up next time. Plus, I didn't want to make things too easy for Dib. And don't worry. I don't do original female character romances. Nameless customer-service girl probably won't show up again...or at least, not in any sort of role other than the 'would you like fries with that' persuasion.  
  
Next time, I promise Action. Danger. Excitement. And Zim. Also, I do believe that, if memory of my own outline serves me correctly, Dib gets some actually competent help from a...somewhat familiar and memorable source from the series. 


	4. Chapter Four

**Title:** Frequency  
**Author:** Mizander  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Disclaimer:** Invader Zim belongs to ME! ...No wait, just kidding. I swear! Before the lawyers representing Jhonen Vasquez and Nickolodeon come to haul me away, I'd better tell you that Zim acctually belongs to them. 

**Chapter 4:**  
  
Tugging angrily on the small robot's arm, Dib groaned in frustration. "GIR! Come-on, please! I need you to help me...ugh..." Smooth metal sliding through his grip, Dib lost his balance and landed on the floor for the umpteenth time since setting foot on the planet Foodcourtia.  
  
The robot's eyes flashed red, and he glared doom down at the frustrated human. "You're not my master!" growled the SIR unit in a low voice quite unlike his usual squeal. Dib looked around, but whether they were uninterested in the strange alien boy or simply used to Irken automatons, no other patrons of the Taco place found the incident of any note.  
  
Reverting suddenly to his normal hyperactive self GIR turned back to his distraction, gleefully spraying Dib with bits of food as he spoke. "I can't go now, big-head boy, I'm eating Tacos!"  
  
With sudden sympathy for Zim, Dib let out a roar of frustration. "NOW!"  
  
GIR merely giggled and offered the seething human one of the snacks from his plate in reply.  
  
"I don't have time for this GIR! I..." and then, with a truly brilliant flash of inspiration, Dib leaned over and picked up the plate of tacos - carrying them nonchalantly from the restaurant. GIR raced after him, alternating furiously between screams and intense crying jags. Dib's ears nearly burst, but he resolutely refused to return the tacos to GIR until he was firmly attached to the ship's navigational system.  
  
"Well GIR," he chuckled bleakly over the loud sounds of open-mouthed chewing, "whatever else happens to me on this trip, I doubt it could be as difficult as getting you away from the tacos."

* * *

Dib's sense of impending doom heightened the longer the trip to the Vortian system went on. He had moved straight through uninterrupted, and was now staring straight down the mouth of a grim, dark docking bay. The structure it occupied was just as grey, cold metal walls with foreboding slits of windows. Whomever this was home to could certainly not be very happy.  
  
The problem at hand however, was that perhaps Tak's ship on it's own could escape notice, but a security hold and prison could hardly fail to be guarded by elite soldiers. Even if he did manage to avoid being questioned by security - it would be more than evident that he did not belong there the second he got out of his ship.  
  
Thinking briefly about passing his unusual appearance off as an Invader's disguise, like the Resisty had believed, he quickly decided against that idea. If he wasn't asked why he was in his disguise in Irken territory, GIR would definitely give something away.  
  
Or maybe, he thought brightening, GIR's affiliation to Zim would be a help rather than a hindrance.  
  
Putting one hand near the reverse thrusters in case a quick escape was needed, Dib maneuvered the ship down to the docking bay entrance. Almost instantly, the ship's communications system crackled to life.  
  
"State your business."  
  
One hand firmly placed over GIR's mouth, and trying to speak as smoothly as he could, Dib leaned over the microphone to reply. "Bounty Hunter Dib Membrane, here to bring the personal effects of Prisoner Irken Zim to..." he quickly debated the use of formalities before finishing. "My Tallest."  
  
There was a long pause on the other end, and Dib's hand hovered, quivering against the thruster controls.  
  
"...Very well. A guard will meet you in the docking bay to take you to wait for The Tallest."  
  
The channel switched off, and Dib let out a breath of air he hadn't been aware he was holding in the first place. He wondered if he could convince this guide to leave him alone...this would be the next step of the plan. There was bound to be a lot of security here - how would he manage to get all the way into the hold and get Zim out, undetected or without arousing suspicions to his true motives? He'd been excited enough that his plan to get inside had worked at all. What if he never got out?  
  
Unfortunately, he hadn't thought that far ahead, and now he was stuck.  
  
Once more bringing the ship to a halt, he climbed out and moved along the rows of similar Irken vessels looking around for his guide. GIR was oddly silent, perhaps he understood the seriousness of the situation - or maybe...as was in fact the case, he found there to be too many unfamiliar things to marvel at and thus hold his attention. Whatever the reason - Dib was grateful for it.  
  
There was no Irken soldier to be seen as Dib made his way slowly amid the rows of parked vehicles, but it seemed careless to believe that perhaps a harried communications officer had already forgotten to send the promised help to the docking bay. Perhaps he was on his way and Dib should just wait for awhile. It might give him time to think of a second story.  
  
"Ooh! Whazzat!?" GIR's voice cut into his thoughts.  
  
Shocked out of his internal monologue, Dib instinctively looked up. At first, he thought that GIR was pointing at a ship not unlike Zim's, but to his surprise, he realized that the robot had instead spotted a short figure cloaked in black who was attempting to hide behind two thin pieces of metal supporting the front wheels of a vibrantly purple Voot Cruiser. Although short, the figure's girth made him ill-equipped for hiding behind such a thin piece of metal. Apparently aware of the eyes upon him, he broke into a clumsy run heading in the direction Dib had just come from and bee-lining for Tak's vessel.  
  
"HEY!" Dib realized with a violent start. Whoever it was was intending to take his ship! Breaking into a sprint, Dib found he was faster, and closed on the would-be thief's heels quickly. Taking a flying leap, he shortly found himself eating cold airlock floor as metal appendages tore through the black cloak, flinging it away as the spider-like limbs bore a short, bulky Irken out of harm's way.  
  
Dib leapt to his feet, his jaw smarting horribly from the face plant he'd just performed, but facing the now-exposed creature resolutely.  
  
Using the extra appendages to his advantage, the alien barreled down on Dib, drawing back a fist and letting fly at his face with surprising force. Throwing up his arms in the nick of time to protect himself, his forearm took the full brunt of the attack. No bones broke, but there would surely be a nasty bruise left, and what was more the thief now had the advantage he needed.  
  
Unused to such pain, Dib shook it off with an extreme effort, and took off once more after the Irken. Now unable to reach the same heights, Dib swiped wildly at one of the spindly legs. For his efforts he was rewarded with the frantic scrabbling of metal on metal. Half-way through the fall, the spider-legs retracted back into the Irken's Pak, and he hit the floor with a sickening dull thud.  
  
Dib rushed to stand over him and got a good look at just who had caused him all this pain and trouble for the first time. He was staring at an Irken slightly taller than Zim, but about twice as wide. He was dressed similarly to the other soldier-class individuals but his red, pink and black uniform was unkempt and covered with greasy stains. Feeling Dib's glare upon him, his antennae flattened themselves against his head and he pulled himself to his feet with the resigned terror of someone who knew he'd been caught.  
  
Attempting to keep the upper hand, Dib was the one who broke the silence. "Why did you try to steal my ship?"  
  
The fat little Irken frowned at the floor, trembling from head to toe, and much to Dib's surprise - something that seemed to be tears welled in his protuberant red eyes. "...I don't want to die." he whispered.  
  
Putting two and two together, Dib dropped all pretense. "You...escaped? From here?"  
  
"Yes." Quivering, the Irken clearly believed that Dib was here to take him back to his cell...or whatever. Perhaps he could use this to his advantage.  
  
"How'd you do it?"  
  
For the first time the would-be thief looked up at Dib, perhaps recognizing something as non-threatening in his tone. "You...you're not..." he stammered, pointing over Dib's shoulder. "...that's Zim's robot!"  
  
GIR stopped rolling about on the floor and waved energetically. "Hiya!" Racing closer, he sniffed at the stains on the Irken's uniform suspiciously for a moment, causing him to jump back defensively. "Youuu like Tacos tooooo."  
  
One eye still watching GIR warily, the escapee turned back to Dib. "What are you doing here?"  
  
Dib was not yet ready for the tables to be turned on the questions. He shook his head. "I answer nothing until you tell me who you are and what you wanted with my ship." he growled, hoping he sounded threatening.  
  
The Irken eyed Dib for a long moment, clearly struggling with himself. For a moment Dib thought perhaps he would not speak, but finally the creature opened his mouth. "I am, or rather, I was Invader Skoodge. I was the first Invader to conquer a planet during Impending Doom Two in the name of the Empire." Here Skoodge predictably paused in his tale, probably to savor what Dib already suspected was a fleeting remainder of his pride. "The Tallest decided that I was unfit to represent the Irken ideals as I do not look the part of an Invader."  
  
At Dib's curious look, he elaborated. "I'm not tall."  
  
"Oh. That's stupid."  
  
Skoodge twitched visibly, then relaxed. Recalling the Irken cashier from Foodcourtia, Dib was willing to bet that it had taken all the former invader's effort not to yell at him for insulting his home planet and customs. "Be that as it may, that was the case. The Tallest tried many times to...to take me out of the picture, to kill me, but I returned for more abuse every time. I was impressionable then. I didn't realize the truth. I...didn't want to realize the truth. They accredited another Irken with MY victory...and then, when they couldn't kill me off, they decided to send me here to let me rot. I managed to escape my cell, but I could not truly leave until I had a means of transportation. Nobody really comes here...or stays for long."  
  
Dib made a face as he thought. Here he was, thinking of collaborating with the enemy. But then, nothing risked, nothing gained, and Skoodge seemed honest enough. "How about I make you a deal. If you help me to rescue Zim, then I will take you with me, out of here."  
  
"Under normal circumstances I'd ask why you wanted to rescue Zim, but I would presume that he's in the same position as I am."  
  
"Under normal circumstances, I'd ask myself the same question." Dib retorted.  
  
Nodding slowly, Skoodge extended his hand. Feeling rather dirty in doing so, Dib gave it a good shake, thinking hard of how the Resisty would feel when he brought back not one, but rather two prisoners of war.

* * *

Dib followed Skoodge to the docking bay doors finally, whistling low in appreciation at the prone forms of two Irken guards and what was probably Dib's guide laying just out of sight of the doorway. Skoodge apparently really was that good.  
  
Darting over two the figures, Skoodge pulled off the cloak off of the male one, which he wrapped around himself and crudely hemmed by sticking the trailing ends into his boots. He removed the communicators from both and several other tools as well, handing one of the pile to Dib. "Keep his keycard on you as a spare in case we get separated." he instructed, and Dib felt another nasty pang of guilt over how he was using the ex-Invader. He pocketed the small device and forced himself to focus fully on the mission at hand.  
  
GIR meandered haphazardly but silently after them as they crept down the maze of hall passages, the somber nature of the prison seemingly affecting even his perpetually care-free mood as Skoodge led them deeper into the heart of the hold. Little conversation passed between them as they walked by rows of heavy metal doors. Every so now and again, Skoodge would make a comment such as 'That's Vortian Prisoner number seven seven seven' or 'That big room there is where they put all the Slaughtering Rat People at once.'  
  
It seemed as though they'd been walking for hours, and Dib was completely lost. All of the doors and passages looked the same - he may as well have been going in circles and for all he knew, they were.  
  
"This is where they keep Irken defectives." said Skoodge. "Zim should be in here."  
  
Dib was just going to question Skoodge on the now familiar use of the word 'defective', when GIR unexpectedly perked up. "Master!" he whispered, stopping in front of one of the uniform heavy metal doors. "MASTER!"  
  
"SHHHH!" Dib hissed in frustration, when to his mingled relief and excitement, a voice came floating back through the steel.  
  
Softer than a whisper, and pathetically weak, but still classically Zim. "GIR!? You found me? Well what do you know. You really are advanced."  
  
Tongue poking out in concentration, Skoodge extracted his spider legs from his pak again and leveled them at the door to Zim's cell. They suddenly sparked to life, forming a glowing blue energy field in the air in front of him. As Dib watched, the other four shut down so that only one beam of energy remained. The lone appendage swiveled sideways so that the beam as thin as a knife blade fit into the crack between wall and door, gliding up and down under Skoodge's direction.  
  
Just like that, the door swung forward and a collective silence reigned between both sides of the door as both parties assessed the oddity of what lay on the other side.  
  
Zim's cell was small compared to the size of the door that protected him. All four walls were of the same dull grey metal that comprised most of the base and there was barely enough room for him to stretch his arms straight out at his sides. Along the back wall, there was a small protrusion, also metal and roughly the width of a single bed. There were no windows or decorations, and the only indicator that one could survive at all in such an environment was a small air vent roughly the size of a man's hand situated high up on the ceiling.  
  
Zim himself looked even thinner and smaller than Dib had ever known him to be, diminished and as weak as his voice. Nevertheless, he was staring blankly at Skoodge, Dib and GIR, completely at a loss.  
  
"GIR!" he demanded in a voice that suggested he had long shouted himself hoarse. "Didn't I tell you to stay at the base?"  
  
As they had done in the Taco house on Foodcourtia, GIR's eyes flashed red. "Yes, My Master!" As they phased back to cyan green, he began to babble, ticking his fingers off as though to embelish reciting a list. "First I made waffles, then I daaaaanced, then I made me some muffins! They had pine cleanser and Asprin in them! Then I made some more waffles....OH! Then I watched the scary Monkey show. That's when the pig..."  
  
Zim winced. "That horrible monkey..." he rasped. "That still doesn't explain what you're doing here. And YOU. And you're Skoodge aren't you?" He took in the poorly fitting high-collared cloak that the ex-Invader had stolen from the guards he'd knocked out. "You got promoted?"  
  
"We've gotta get out of here!" Dib exclaimed, completely losing his head. How long had they been standing here, probably in plain view of a video camera?  
  
Zim shook his head, raising his sick voice in an attempt at his usual bellow. "ZIM hasn't the time to play your pathetic games Dib-stink. My Tallest have finally recognized the MIGHTY GLORY that is ZIM, and are going to give me a--"  
  
"...The Tallest are trying to KILL YOU! Just like they did to Me!" this time, it was not Dib, but rather Skoodge.  
  
"Jealous!" hissed Zim. "You were assigned to Blorch while I was given a secret mission!"  
  
"Oh for godsake, Skoodge isn't jealous. He's trying to save your life." Frustrated, Dib pulled out the tape recorder he'd brought off the ship with him and barreled on. "And I have the proof."  
  
Holding the machine victoriously above his head, Dib pressed the 'play' button and the voices of the Tallest poured out of the tiny speaker to rebound around the hallway irreputably. It was impossible to tell what Zim was thinking, but when the entire spiel had faded back into static, he said nothing.  
  
"We found them!" This intruding new voice was punctuated by a laser bolt striking the wall mere inches from Dib's head.  
  
"RUN! Now!"  
  
Dib and even GIR didn't need to be told twice, but Zim on the other hand wouldn't budge. Letting out a particularly colorful stream of curses, Skoodge doubled back and bodily dragged the unmoving, silent figure along after them.  
  
Dib really hoped Skoodge knew his way out of the prison, because he himself was completely lost.

* * *

**Author's Notes:**  
  
I think these silly note things get longer every time I write them. Perhaps I just like hearing myself talk. At any rate I actually do have to say a few things of possible interest:  
  
1) I love reviews. I thank those who review from the bottom of my first-time fanfiction writer heart.  
  
2) I have gone off and gotten myself a live-journal account. I shall use it to my advantage, I hope. I'd like to meet some of my fellow authors and have the chance to talk to them. Link is up in my profile under homepage.  
  
3) I'm actually in the process of working out the kinks to a new fanfiction. As part of the er...hired help in the ZADR C2 community, I thought perhaps I should have something to contribute. If ZADR isn't your cup of tea however - never fear, Frequency was planned as a pairingless fic, and so it shall remain. 


	5. Chapter Five

**Title:** Frequency  
**Author:** Mizander  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Disclaimer:** Invader Zim? Whazzat? Well, whatever it is, it's not mine. From what I've been told however - it belongs to this one guy named Jhonen Vasquez...and this other company called Nickolodeon.  
  
**Chapter 5:**  
  
Dib raced through the corridors at breakneck speed, listening to the clunk of many pairs of running feet. He had not looked back to see how close their pursuers were, nor could he distinguish friend or foe from the erratic rhythm. His own legs pumped relentlessly, and he doggedly ignored the increasing protests of his lungs that commanded him to stop, despite the certain doom that would bring. As he went, he berated himself mentally for all the times that he had skived out of phys-ed class or turned down invitations from other skool children to play dodgeball or foursquare at lunch time. Compared to his companions, he appeared considerably out of shape.  
  
Skoodge and Zim were on his heels with the alternating dire curses and attempts to hurry Zim along from the former as the only reassurance he had that they had not been captured or killed. Out in front, GIR lead the pack while wailing his usual insane song. Under more normal circumstances, Dib would have suggested they all be checked for some kind of mental deficiency, but despite his abysmal idiocy, GIR seemed to have an innate survival instinct buried deep within. Dib had seen it time and again during his earthly encounters with Zim - and as strange as it would seem he had faith that the little robot would get them all to safety or killed in the attempt. A risky gamble, but a necessary one as well, given that there really didn't seem to be much other viable choice.  
  
Synonymous with that moment in Dib's thoughts, GIR skidded to a sudden halt and nearly caused his unsuspecting group of followers to crash into eachother as they pulled up short. With no background noise, Dib's sense of impending doom went from zero to thirty as he heard their pursuers clearly for the first time, steadily closing in.  
  
"We have to go in here!" GIR informed them in a sing-song voice, as though he had not a care in the world.  
  
At the edges of his peripheral vision Dib could see Zim hanging deliberately at the back of the group, chest heaving with fatigue, but otherwise listless. Starkly in contrast, Skoodge stepped forward, antennae flicking about wildly to scrutinize the door. "This is the ship bay isn't it?"  
  
"YEP!"  
  
"Isn't there another way out?" Dib asked, eying the thick barrier warily and fearing the answer.  
  
Skoodge shook his head. "This is Irken architectural planning. Which means that the entirety of the planet would have been made into one specific structure."  
  
"No exit huh?" Dib eyed the lifeless Zim and began to wonder if for once, he had the right idea.  
  
"Except this one." Skoodge confirmed, his tone soldier-like. The erratic twitching of his antennae was the only indication that he might be in some way nervous. He sighed, making a brave attempt at bravado. "Well then, I guess..." Dib never heard the end of that sentiment, for as Skoodge stuck his hands on his hips he trailed off. They both looked for a second in mild disbelief at the stolen keycard that still hung, forgotten until that moment on his belt.  
  
Wasting no time with words, he held the card against a small pad by the door and the four hurried inside. As a final precaution, the Irken shut the door behind them and slammed his fist onto the sister keycard pad. The unfortunate device sparked once and then blinked out, clearly dead. Dib might have been surprised, but aside from the numerous times that Zim had out ran and out powered him, his jaw was currently sporting a swelling, rather purple bruise from the earlier skirmish. It almost made him feel a little safer.  
  
That feeling was squelched almost immediately as the door flew open, sending them all racing once more. Apparently, the lock that Skoodge had destroyed was not technologically connected with the one on the outside. The unfortunate effect of this move had efficiently locked them in a room with their troupe of pursuers, all of whom were packing some rather nasty weapons judging by the deep burns the bolts of energy were leaving in the walls, floor and surrounding vessels.  
  
"How are we all going to fit into the cruiser?" Dib demanded, as he fought to get his breath back. There was barely enough room for himself and GIR and they'd be rather cramped if all four tried to squeeze in.  
  
"We're just going to have to deal!" yelled Skoodge who was already halfway inside, and his tone gave little room for debate. Warily, Dib climbed quickly in to the pilot's chair, and was closely followed by GIR and Zim - the later having been hoisted in bodily by Skoodge who found his seat last, scrambling across Dib's lap to wedge himself in front of the controls to the right.  
  
GIR immediately became preoccupied by his master, who sat hunched in the back of the ship, muttering under his breath to himself. Dib had more important things to worry about, but at least Zim was showing signs of life. Normal (for Zim) signs of life at that, if the rise and fall of his intonation had anything to do with it.  
  
More pressing to their situation at the time was the fact that the pursuing soldiers had learned that their current weaponry wasn't doing much to breach the hull of Tak's ship, and they were soon scrambling for the more powerful cannons their own modes of transportation would supply. Again, Dib panicked as he realized the airlock doors were closed - trapping them still. Once the ship cannons started going off, there wasn't much they would be able to do to dodge the destructive lasers coming at them from all angles. Dib was by no standards an ace pilot, and even Tak's weaponry wouldn't have much to offer, outnumbered as he was.  
  
Losing his head completely, Dib shut his eyes and threw his arms against his face as though it would protect him from the impending onslaught. The sound of a blast close by, followed by violen lurch of movement caused him to pull in tighter on himself. This action was punctuated further by a wave of vertigo as the ship took flight. Daring to open his eyes, he could not help but shake his head in awed amazement. He had barely time to marvel as he was nearly thrown from his seat due to Skoodge enacting a spectacular barrel roll out of the hole he had blasted through the airlock himself.  
  
"Don't take this the wrong way, but your leaders were idiots to get rid of someone like you!" Dib exclaimed, feeling slightly humbled.  
  
Skoodge's mouth thinned a little in response, and he thrust the controls at Dib. "You concentrate on driving the ship, I'll concentrate on clearing our path."  
  
Deciding that this was neither the time nor the place to try and make headway on that particular branch of their acquaintance, Dib did as the Irken soldier ordered and caught up the controls to the ship just in time. Even given their situation, he wanted desperately badly to execute a move as cool as Skoodge had, but he found it was all he could do to merely dodge the potshots that were being taken at them.  
  
Skoodge was not wasting his shots, but rather concentrating the fire on anyone who came in too close. His expression changed dramatically as the struggle wore on, the gleam in his eyes taking on a fanatical spark that could have rivalled Zim's. One particularly well-placed shot of firey laser death sent an Irken voot cruiser into a tailspin collision course with the metallic prison-structure planet. Victoriously, the Irken leapt into as much of a standing position as the cramped space would allow and shook his fist at the smoldering black blot on the otherwise unmarred walls. "FOOL!" He roared. "DO NOT MESS WITH THE IRKEN ELITE!"  
  
No sooner were the words out of his mouth, when the full impact of where he was and what he was doing seemed to catch up with him. The black-gloved claw shook violently against the dash of the ship, and the short Irken sat back down hard into his seat. It was in that crucial moment that a voot that had tailed them managed to get in a poor, but debilitating shot that glanced off their left rear thruster, crippling it enough to slow them down.  
  
Skoodge looked at Dib, wincing almost apologetically as a second, better aimed shot struck the thruster again, causing a brief struggle against the controls that had they lost, would have resulted in them joining their predecessor as a decoration on the side of the Vortian prison.  
  
Not for the first time since starting his trip, Dib felt near hopelessly lost and out of his league. Earth had been his territory and he had had merely one alien to deal with. Now, they had many more, each with extensive knowledge of this part of space. Although Skoodge was an excellent guide and shot, they were undeniably completely surrounded. For each cruiser he crippled, another arrived to take it's place. Dib had always been an optimistic individual however, and even staring what looked like certain failure in the face, he couldn't help but hope for the best case scenario. In the movies, something always came along to save the…  
  
Dib could barely believe his luck as three of the closest attacking ships suddenly exploded with no apparent warning. By the looks of surprise on his face, Skoodge evidently hadn't caused that to occur. Looking around, Dib could see no evidence of any help. This, however brought to mind a more frightening concept.  
  
"Uh…Skoodge? Do Irken ships normally randomly implode or anything?" He could picture it now. Things like that had always seemed to happen in the past, especially with his precious video tapes of Zim. Every time he'd managed to get away with a picture or video intact, something would come along out of the blue to destroy his hard-won victory anyway. The last thing they needed was a miraculous escape, only to explode thanks to faulty Irken technology. Just how HAD Tak pieced together this ship anyway?  
  
"No…" Skoodge's response was a mite irritated but he was looking at the screen curiously, having momentarily abandoned his gunman post. Outside the Voot's dome, Irken ships continued to vaporize under the onslaught of their invisible savior. "..but that would make them explode." He pointed excitedly at a random bit of what still appeared to be garble to Dib. When the human looked at him confused, he translated. "That says that there's a cloaked ship somewhere in the vicinity."  
  
It took Dib a moment to process what the Irken had told him, but suddenly it struck him. "The Resisty! They have a cloaked ship! It's gotta be them!"  
  
Skoodge was still giving him a bit of a funny look, but it eased into a more relaxed expression finally. "I guess I've got to get used to being on the opposing side myself. I do wish they had a cooler name though."  
  
Whatever Dib had been expecting, it certainly was not this. "You're going to join us then?" he asked.  
  
"Of course I am. First of all, I can't go back to the Empire. I'd be executed on the spot after this little escapade. Secondly I'm a soldier and I'd feel better knowing I was doing something for the common good... even if my opinions on what that 'common good' is have to change. Third, I don't even want to go back."  
  
Dib gave him a grin as the communications device crackled to life. Every muscle in Dib's body relaxed as the Resisty hailed his ship to tell him they were taking them in. It was all over. He'd…in some small way, won. Victory for Dib.  
  
Once safely inside the Resisty ship, Dib realized with a start that he'd nearly forgotten all about Zim, safely tucked away in the back of the ship with GIR fussing over him. He'd been so quiet – so unlike Zim at all. As he clambered out of the ship, the other members of the Resisty gathered to greet him like they had been the first time he'd met them – he heard the clang of GIR as he leapt from the ship, and Skoodge.  
  
"So Zim." The other Irken outcast began in a friendly tone, "Are you going to join our new cause as well?"  
  
"HOW DARE YOU!" Zim screamed at the top of his voice in lieu of a reply. "I WILL TELL OUR TALLEST OF YOUR INSUBORDINATION!"  
  
Dib didn't see the punch, but he certainly heard it. The next thing he knew, Skoodge was falling past him, landing motionless on the floor. The spark had seemed to dissapear from his eyes, and he made no move to get up. There wasn't time to attend to that however, as Zim rose out of the ship and advanced on Dib with all the fury of a short, green angel of death.  
  
In the end, it had taken at least five aliens to drag the screetching Irken away, still ranting in a spectacular display of delusional madness about being an Invader and The Tallest. He could still be heard down the hall, even after the door closed behind him.

* * *

The general attitude aboard The Massive was no less than terror of the sort that breeds nightmares. The Almighty Tallest were righteously pissed off, and that was many different kinds of bad for everyone involved. Several innocent Irkens had already been victim to random acts of violence, various expensive items had been broken, and more than one smeet had already learned a plethora of rather interesting words. Even Purple could admit that he didn't know that many creative curses – a great many of which had been devised by Red simply for the occasion.  
  
"Though, I really don't know why you're so angry." Purple smirked hopefully at his co-ruler in an attempt to calm his ranting. "Sure it's irritating and all since we don't get to kill Zim, AND he's been captured by the enemy. If you think about it though, it's ZIM. He'll cause them just as much trouble, if not more than he caused us. Am I right, or am I right? I think I'm right." Purple paused a moment to savor the logic and rationale in his thought. It wasn't that often that he got to be the pinnacle of reason in their day-to-day dealings.  
  
Red snarled, apparently unconvinced. "That's not the issue here. Did you stop to think that we had TWO traitors escape today?"  
  
Purple frowned. "Invader Skoodge? But he's short."  
  
"Yes, AND fat." Red finished the thought, then paused to pin his co-ruler with a significant look. "He's also a good Invader."  
  
Purple looked confused. "I still don't see what the problem is." There had to be one though, ever since they'd become the Tallest, he'd never seen Red actually look troubled. The lifestyle just didn't permit for things like that. "Ah! That's it, isn't it! We need nachos!" He eyed the service drone. "YOU! Bring us Nachos. And would it kill you not to skimp on the cheese this time?"  
  
Red forced down an angry groan. Sometimes Purple just didn't get it. On the other hand, nachos did sound…pretty good.  
  
"Ah, the Resisty'll probably squish them both like bugs." Purple chortled, spraying the reutrning drone with the excess of cheese.  
  
Red leaned over, grabbed a handful and joined his partner in laughter. Maybe Purple was right about the whole thing. After all, if nothing else, they were The Tallest. They could do whatever they wanted.  
  
"HEH! Bug."

* * *

Author's Notes:  
  
UGH. I hope this chapter is somewhat worth the time it took to get it out...twice. My computer blue-screened the first time I wrote it, and I lost everything. It took me this long to try and write it again. sigh  
  
Er...there's a couple of projects in the works - please look for my new story soon. 


	6. Chapter Six

**Title:** Frequency  
**Author:** Mizander  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Disclaimer:** Invader Zim? Oh, yeah I've given up on trying to own that. Go talk to that Jhonen Vasquez guy. I hear is's his property. Or something. Nickolodeon might have some useful information too.

**Chapter 6:**  
  
Dib found himself feeling ill as he stared at the prone body of Skoodge lying motionless on the floor. The alien had not moved since Zim had punched him, and from his position on the ladder, Dib could not see any signs of life. Fearing the worst, he approached the body, and nearly died himself of a heart attack as several thick metal wires writhed their way out of the alien's back attachment.  
  
"Re-activate." stated a cool, electronic female voice as sparks flew from the appendages. Seconds later, Skoodge pulled himself to his feet, apparently awake.  
  
"Ugh." he stated, by way of a morning greeting.  
  
Dib blinked, still not entirely over the shock. "Are you alright?"  
  
Skoodge chuckled, rather blithely for one who just seconds before had taken a hit to the head bad enough for a concussion. "My head's still a bit sore, but other than that I should be just fine."  
  
Lard'Nar frowned, making his way over to the two. That's all mighty good my friend, but keeping in mind that you are an Irken aboard a Resisty ship, I'm wondering just how much you think I'm supposed to trust you."  
  
After all they'd been through together, Dib decided to speak in the Irken's defense. "Skoodge helped Zim and I escape. He was a prisoner in the stronghold."  
  
The ram-horned alien came nose to nose with Dib. "An Irken helped you out of the prison?" he asked skeptically. "I think you're being a bit gullible. He could have a tracking device or anything at all on him right now."  
  
This was something Dib HAD given plenty of thought to, but by the same token, Skoodge's story really did check out by Zim's example. It seemed to be that lack of respect was a common problem for short members of the Irken empire. On that note he really couldn't see why these 'Tallest' enjoyed so much success, if all they really had going for them was a height advantage over the other members of their species.  
  
"He's in the same situation as Zim." he continued, with as much conviction as he could muster. "And he wants to help us."  
  
Lard'Nar shook his head this time. "Sorry Dib. I don't trust any Irken farther than I can throw him. Since he seems to be more quiet, we can use him as proof and bait for the Empire. I can't wait to tell them that we've figured out their little plan. Then we'll pump him for as much information as we can."  
  
Glancing appologetically at Skoodge but coming to the realization that his opinion would evidently not be the popular one, Dib waited while the Irken was restrained and then followed the party into the command room of the ship. They were joined by several other resistance soldiers on the way, and Dib was mentally giving himself a rundown of just what kind of sarcastic tirade he would direct at these so-called leaders. He felt like he had the right, having snatched two of their own elite soldiers right out from under their non-existant noses.  
  
Lard'Nar hopped into the command chair and quickly sent the signal. It wasn't long before the screen was alight with the command room of the Massive. Two incredibly tall Irkens wheeled around to face the source of the intrusion into their privacy, glaring haugtily down at the assembled members of the resistance. In one breath, Dib felt all of his brilliant wit die in his throat. These two commanded a certain kind of respect he had found himself at odds with all too often: the arrogant popular kid. It mingled nastily with a flashy showmanship and just plain incredible height. Dib was starting to feel very small, for many reasons that had little to do with comparative height. Realizing this, and being unable to quell such a reaction was doing little for his ego.  
  
"Oh heeeyyy..." the purple-eyed one drawled. "It's you guys! Did you ever find a cooler name? I mean...the Resisty? What IS that?"  
  
Red-eyes made a noise of bemused agreement around the straw of the drink he was guzzling.  
  
"It doesn't matter what our name is," huffed Lard'Nar, "We're here to tell you that we have captured TWO of your elite Irken Invaders. Rest assured we will be making sure we get all the information out of them we can!"  
  
Folding his arms and setting the drink aside, Red narrowed his eyes. "I don't think so. All of our Invaders are currently on Irken enemy planets. All of them have recently checked in - we would have known long ago if you were keeping any prisoner."  
  
Triumphantly, the Resisty leader stepped aside, allowing Skoodge's guards to shove him into the Tallest's line of vision. "Here's our proof. We are also holding the Irken Invader called Zim in our ship stronghold." he added. "What do you have to say to THAT?"  
  
Much to the consternation of the Resisty, the red armoured Irken simply laughed derisively. "What, those two? Ha! Oh, you can keep them. In fact, it'd be lovely if you just killed them FOR us."  
  
Purple put his hands to his mouth to hide his giggle. "Heh, yeah. I can tell you right now we DEFINITELY don't want Zim back at any rate. As for the other one...oh, surprise us."  
  
Skoodge stood there, emotionless. The only indication he made that he had even heard his former leader's words was the twitch of one antanae - a brief flicker of movement in Dib's peripheral vision.  
  
"So...you mean we just contacted you to tell you we had WORTHLESS INFORMATION?" Lard'Nar howled.  
  
"Pretty much, yeah." Purple confirmed for them.  
  
The other individual on screen besides the communications officers, an Irken evidently of high rank as the numerous medalions on his chest seemed to suggest, relaxed visibly at his superior's brush-off of the incident.  
  
Lard'Nar scowled at the screen, and several Resisty members made strange movements that judging by the looks on their faces were all probably alien versions of some very rude hand-gestures.  
  
The Irken Tallest simply addressed eachother, making a spectacular display of ignoring the slew of angry opponents glaring at them. "It's rather dissapointing that we didn't acctually get a chance to bring around the Massive." groused Purple. "It would have been fun to kill something today."  
  
If it were possible, Red's grin got wider. "I wouldn't discount that yet. Insignificant as they are," he waved a clawed hand in the general direction of the screen, "they still have property of the Irken empire. Someone screwed up big today." He turned his back on the watching Resisty entirely and faced the now trembling officer.  
  
Purple's eyes opened a little as he caught on. "Hey...yeah! Guess whose fault that was, hmmm?"  
  
Red cackled openly in glee. "KILL HIM!"  
  
The unfortunate commander had barely time to plead for his life, let alone run as three other soldiers rushed on from off screen. Two held him fast and the laser beam fired by the third went into the back of his head and out through the front.  
  
Dib could feel a lunch he hadn't eaten rising from his stomach to his throat, and he resisted the urge to vomit bile onto the floor in front of the two Irken leaders, who were even now screaming with barely contained hysterics.  
  
Simply overwhelmed by the sheer cruelty of it all, Dib recklessly took a step forward. "What kind of SICK race slaughters their OWN kind!?" he yelled. "That's just...I mean, that's just plain WRONG!" his voice rose with anger and passion, choking on the last words as his stomach threatened to betray him once again.  
  
Both of the Irkens seemed to calm at this, Purple giggling through his fingers again, but Red leaned down close to the screen to speak to Dib. "The big-headed creature thinks we're...wrong?" he asked, sounding serious. Without waiting for a reply, he turned to his partner. "I guess we'll just have to show him how much fun it is!" Without further ado, he picked up the resting laser in his two-fingered claw, and casually fired it straight at the nearest Irken.  
  
Purple was acctually unable to stand with the force of his own laughter this time, and Red leaned over him in side-splitting agony at the look on Dib's face, which reflected little more than stupified terror.  
  
A few more minutes of loud, boisterous laughter later, Red wiped a tear from his eye, and straightned. "Ooh, hey, we'd love to stay and have some more fun with your mighty soldiers," He eyed Dib mockingly and turned to Purple who still had a rather sufficiant case of the giggles, "but this is getting boring. Let's go eat something swimming in grease."  
  
As the transmission was cut, Dib finally pitched forward, heaving. The sheer evil of what he'd just witness bubbled up in his chest, and he coughed violently. The members of the Resisty gathered around him, but Skoodge hung back, even though he had the grace to look embaressed for his leader's actions.  
  
"Are you going to be okay there kid?" Shloontapooxis asked, bouncing anxiously in his concern.  
  
With one last hacking cough Dib looked up, the expression on his face utterly miserable. When he finally spoke, his words were quavery and unsure. "...I guess."  
  
Spleenk patted him on the back. It normally would have been a horrible sensation for Dib as the alien's skin was cold and clammy, but through his haze of illness, he barely noticed. "Not to worry. We're going to land on Mozmen soon, so we can transfer Zim to a stronghold there for awhile. It's a nice place; you can go for a walk and get your brain-meats back into order."  
  
"Um..." Skoodge interjected uncharacteristically timidly, "Just a thought here, but despite what we've just seen and heard, this is a fairly happy occasion, is it not? The Resisty is victorious, and we all have new allies." He looked pointedly at Lard'Nar who thought for a moment, but in the end did give a little nod of affirmation.  
  
Dib coughed a little again and straightened, trying to smile but only managing a watery grin. "Y...yeah. That's true."  
  
"So, perhaps some kind of celebration is in order?" prompted the Irken. "With food?" he added hopefully.  
  
Lard'Nar nodded slowly. "I see no harm in that." He eyed Dib. "In fact, I think it'd be excellent for morale!"  
  
"WHOO! PARTY!"  
  
The excitement was infectious, as there was a flurry of activity to set coordinates and take care of the ship's duties before arrival. As the only two with no set activites, Skoodge was left alone with Dib, the later of whom was still in shock from the after-effects of the Tallest's transmission.  
  
"If it helps..." Skoodge began, coming up closer behind Dib but keeping a respectful distance. "...I never much liked either of those two. Their rise to power was an awfully weird situation, but after they started Impending Doom - well...it was pretty hard not to get sucked up into the idea of ruling the Universe. You have to admit it sounds pretty cool." He spread his hands appologetically.  
  
Dib said nothing for a moment, his shoulders trembling as he struggled to pull himself together. He kept trying to remind himself that Zim had done much worse and had unendingly plotted complete genocide of the human species. Then again, Zim had also been prevented from acctually harming anyone, and Dib had never been able to see exactly what an Irken left unchecked could manage. "What kind of leaders kill their own kind? For a mistake?"  
  
Skoodge's answer was simple. "Ruthless ones." He paused. "Look, Dib. If there's anything I've learned from being an Invader, there's no such thing as pretty war. Sometimes you have to see or do or feel things that you don't want to feel...and you can either do something about it, or do nothing about it. I did nothing for far too long." He paused, and waited for some sign from the human. Finally, Dib turned to face him, though he still stared at the floor. "If you don't LIKE what the Tallest and the Irken Empire is doing...?" he left the statement hang in the form of a question, and shifted slightly so that he blocked any escape routes Dib could take, waiting for an answer.  
  
It took a while, but Dib finally swallowed. "...We stop them?"  
  
"Well that doesn't sound very convincing to me."  
  
Dib raised an eyebrow. "We stop them." he repeated with greater volume, glaring at the Irken in the hopes that he would move.  
  
Skoodge didn't. For awhile, they simply stared eachother down, Dib's frustration mounting. Did Skoodge really want a cheerleader response from him? A promise that he wouldn't be sickened by things such as he had just witnessed only a few moments ago? Trying to cheer him up so they could have a little party? That was impossible, and the only thing that would make him feel better would be to...oh. He took a breath and opened his mouth.  
  
"I'm going to bring some DOOM down on their DOOMED HEADS! ...Hey. That felt good."  
  
Skoodge gave him a look that was somewhere between amusement and understanding, before moving aside. Dib looked up more confidently, but didn't end up going anywhere, as this action revealed a view out of the ship's window at the planet that they were approaching. With a pang of homesickness, Dib moved closer. "...wow."  
  
"I've never seen a planet like that before." Skoodge agreed, taking a look for himself. After the Vortian Prison planet and Foodcourtia, Dib could see why. The Irkens apparently mechanized everything they laid their hands on. This world though, was even more vibrantly blue and green than Earth, evidently housing some kind of natural vegitation and perhaps water.  
  
"Welcome to Mozmen. This would be the home of the Resisty." he added for Dib and Skoodge's benifit, before addressing the rest of his crew. "Initiate landing proceedures." Lard'Nar smiled around at the assembly, seemingly relaxed for once. "It's good to be home."

* * *

The impromptu party took place in the outdoors, adding pleasantly to the mounting appreciation Dib was feeling for this group of vigilante aliens. The planet of Mozmen was even more beautiful on it's surface, and as Dib had predicted it was rich with plant life. Naturally, the vegetation was like nothing Earth had to offer, but it was at least very pleasing to the eye, and a visual reminder of all the Resisty fought for. At present, he found himself seated between Skoodge and Shloontapooxis, the former in hommage to the friendship that seemed to be thriving between the two and the latter because of a wild curiosity to find out what and how a cone with no appendages to speak of, ate.  
  
Standing up at the head of the table, Lard'Nar attempted to make a speech in the spirit of boosting morale, but Dib found that having wound down from all the excitement of the past few days (was it days? He wasn't sure anymore), he was too hungry and too thirsty to care.  
  
"...And that's why the Resisty will be victorious!" Lard'Nar finished up. There was some spattered clapping, followed by a mad lunge for whatever food was in reach. Dib greatfully gulped down three full glasses of water before turning his attention to food, and was almost astonished to discover that he was apparently expected to eat what could only be described as 'snack food'. It was almost like a little kid's dream. Every kind of cookie, cake, chip, pretzel, soda and candy bar imaginable littered the table, and there wasn't a vegetable in sight.  
  
"What's the matter Dib?" Shloontapooxis rolled to the left so that he was no longer face down in the plate of nachos. "...you can't possibly not be hungry!"  
  
"...you all...just eat snacks?"  
  
"What else is there?" Skoodge asked.  
  
"Uh, well...meat, vegetables, stuff that doesn't have disturbingly high amounts of sodium and cholestorol?" Dib prompted.  
  
Skoodge laughed. "This is pretty much the Irken diet right here."  
  
Dib blinked. Skoodge was apparently not the typical example of an Irken, but then Gaz also somehow got away with stuffing down food like this every day without gaining a pound. Besides - at a celebration, what could it hurt him?

* * *

Apparently, it could hurt a lot. Halfway through his fourth or fifth (he'd lost track somewhere) plate of snacks, Dib felt his gut turn over horribly.  
  
"Something the matter Dib?"  
  
"Yes, my stomach!" writhing slightly in his seat, Dib attempted to quell the rumbling pain, when a new and truly horrible sensation struck him with full force. "Oh no...it's NOT..."  
  
All eyes turned to him in concern.  
  
"DIARRHEA!" With that, Dib raced from the table, to find a hopefully secluded area.  
  
It was probably thankful that none of the Resisty knew precicely what diarrhea was.

* * *

In the end, his stomach had calmed down considerably, but Dib had found himself reluctant to return to the revelry. After much thought, he wandered into the actual stronghold for a look around. He was unsure exactly where he planned on doing in there, but it was with a certain resignation that he found himself deep within, searching for Zim's cell.  
  
"Zim...--what?!" Dib jumped, as his arm was caught in a vice-grip. He instinctively moved to defend himself, but relaxed when it occured to him that it was only Lard'Nar. He made no move to explain himself, as the Vortian already seemed to understand why he was there.  
  
"I'm sorry Dib, but you need to leave Zim alone right now. I'm not sure he'll ever...truly recover." Lard'Nars' words were reasonably sympathetic, but he held fast to the human and guided him back towards the party. Reluctantly, Dib went. He wasn't sure what he'd wanted to do with Zim at the time...taunt him, convince him...maybe even comfort him. It was possible that Lard'Nar was right and that the alien was a hopeless case entirely. It felt weird to be giving up on him though - as Zim had been the one constant thing in his life on Earth. He'd originally gone on his mission to get some of that back, but now he wasn't sure.  
  
He really couldn't help but wonder what exactly Zim was thinking now.

* * *

**Authors Notes:**  
  
Mmm. So you want me to sum up Chapter Six for the masses? Angst,Fear,MoreAngst,Horrible Bathroom Humour,Angst. I needed a bit of a break from the more "hardcore" stuff. This chapter however, DOES herald the end of PART I. Part II begins now...  
  
Thanks for the Reviews - and hopefully I'll have more time to write after...y'know Midterms and stuff. 


	7. Chapter Seven

**Title:** Frequency  
**Author:** Mizander  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Disclaimer: **It seems my evil plans to steal Invader Zim for myself failed. That would mean it still belongs to Jhonen Vasquez and buddies.

**Chapter 7:**

Oh, how dark and alone it was here, filled with the stink of inferior species unspeakable. How DARE they put me here and the TALLEST will come for me...the Armada, oh how the Tallest will come for me, and they should have been here hours ago, but they're busy, yes, busy and they will come. The Dib and those other filthies will rue the day they stuck ME in here, but I was in the prison on Vort, why was I in the prison on Vort, but I don't like those memories, the Tallest will come for me, the Armada will be here to destroy...and...why have I been shut up...so...very...long...they will come....

With a wail, Zim resumed his beat on the walls, the doors, anything he could find to distract himself. His mouth worked as though independent of his mind, yelling the things that he was supposed to yell in such a situation. Perhaps if he kept it up, someone would come, and he would once again forget about all of the things he'd begun to think about, locked away in his cell. It had become common practice for him to keep his mind occupied with anything and everything possible since his incredible mistake during Operation Impending Doom.

Wait.

Mistake? ZIM makes no mistakes!

The very second his mind was allowed to drift, horrible things surfaced. That recording the Dib had made…no, no…FORGED…but, then - the race for their freedom, Tak and Sizz-Lor's lies that suddenly seemed less like lies and more like the truth. Even Skoodge's voice, normally so easy to drown out, to manipulate, sounded convincing. But things like those were only part of mind tricks. He was an Invader, and even the best Invaders sometimes got captured or challenged. He could get out of this and simply have faith that the Armada would arrive.

...Would they?

No. NO! An Invader could never think such HORRIBLE LIES about the TALLEST! That was why Tak had failed, wasn't it? An Invader should have unwavering loyalty! But…

The Tallest had LOCKED UP THE MIGHTY ZIM. The TALLEST had given him GIR...that pile of TRASH robot…no, advanced…no TRASH! They never ever returned his calls or KEPT THEIR PROMISES OF SUPER WEAPON TANKS OF DOOM! THE TALLEST...

...were such filthy liars. But why?

He was ZIM. And He was an UNSTOPPABLE DEATH MACHINE. Why wouldn't anyone come? Didn't anyone care that Zim was powerful? The Tallest had cared, and they'd given Zim his...NO. They hadn't ever done anything worthwhile.

...and no one will come.

It was a painful reality.

"HEY! HEY! I AM ZIM! LET ME OUT!"

Why should he be let out if the armada wasn't coming? WHY wouldn't the armada come? Why had the Tallest lied? They were The Tallest, and…Oh. Well, maybe…

A new thought occurred to Zim. The Tallest were DEFECTIVE. Yes, that had to be it. Yes, his empire was truly in trouble, with such deranged leaders in charge - no Tallest in their right mind would dare to lock up ZIM! It all made perfect sense now. Now, it was simply imperative that he get out, he needed to right this terrible wrong that plagued his Empire.

Zim's eyes narrowed. This was far more serious than anyone imagined.

Irken society required that defectives be eliminated immediately...by any means possible. He HAD to get out.

Extracting his spider legs from his Pak, the energy tips blazed to life, and began the slow and steady process of working, millimeter by agonizing millimeter through the reinforced metal alloy that held Zim captive.

---

In the end, Dib's mood had improved, the celebration night had remained fun but by the end of it, he'd been completely drained. Several of the Aliens understood in their own form, the need for sleep, and through combined efforts, he'd fashioned a reasonably comfortable bed. Mercifully, he'd been allowed to rest as long as he'd needed it, and woke up refreshed.

Carefully avoiding the lower holding levels of the Mozmen base, Dib picked his way though the still unfamiliar labyrinthine passages with a rising sense of anxiety at the lack of Resisty personnel. Surely they couldn't have been raided in the night...or worse yet - he couldn't have been stranded here.He had once described himself as obsessive compulsive and he was certain that besides the fact that Captain Lard'Nar and Skoodge at least seemed to really like him - he would not have failed to notice occurrences such as the ones he worried about.

Just as he was thinking these things, he was rewarded in his search troubles by the sound of loud voices. Following the sound with new hope, he opened the doors to an auditorium, and what could only be described as a heated argument between Skoodge and Lard'Nar.

The Vortian was practically sliding off the edge of his seat, one foot tapping nervously against the ground, and fingers digging into the material of the chair as he ranted at Skoodge. "That's INSANE! Are you trying to get us all killed? I KNEW you weren't really on our side IRKEN SPY!"

Skoodge too seemed at the end of his tether, though his reply sounded far more calm. "You may believe what you like Captain, but what I'm trying to say is that you can not spend all your time simply trying to steal snacks and supplies. You have plenty...and you need to make a decisive strike or else you will start to LOSE support if systems begin to think that you're not actually accomplishing anything!"

Twitching visibly, Lard'Nar hissed. "Then what do you propose we do!?"

This was evidently the opening Skoodge had been waiting for, and Lard'Nar's face contracted into a mix of confusion and slightly more mild suspicion as he came to the realization that the Irken really did have a plan.

When the silence in the war room had become palpable, Skoodge spoke up, voice ringing around the hall. "Has anyone ever thought of turning the tables on the Empire?"

There was another moment of silence following this pronouncement, before the other assembled members of the Resisty broke into chatter amoung themselves. From what Dib could make out of the murmurs, there was division. Some of the group was in support of Lard'Nar's suspicions that Skoodge was some sort of a spy for the Empire, while others felt that there was a pretty fair point in all of this.

Now taking to drumming his fingers obsessively on the arm rest of his chair, Lard'Nar eyed the company. "It's not a bad idea." He admitted, rather grudgingly. "But it won't work. There's not a single individual here who could look reasonably Irken. We couldn't put such a disguise on any of us."

Skoodge scanned the company himself, his face seeming to crumble slightly as he looked over the other aliens present. Dib could see, as evidently could Skoodge, that the idea just wouldn't work when faced with all those tentacles, horns and mechanical frames. Finally, the ex-invader's gaze fell on Dib, and their eyes locked.

At first, Dib had thought that the Irken just simply hadn't noticed his presence until that moment, but slowly, his brain began to clue in. "Me?" he asked, aware suddenly of all the eyes that were on him.

"You could do it Dib." Skoodge eyed the human appraisingly. "You're small enough to go unnoticed...but not so bad either; you could get into Devastis with little to no problem."

Eyes sparkling, Dib's brain went into overdrive at the mere idea. "Really? What's Devastis? Would I get all sorts of neat Alien devices? And get to pilot a REAL alien ship?"

Skoodge frowned at this, as did Lard'Nar. "This is serious business Dib." he began to explain. "There are lots of smeets on Irk who want to be soldiers, but end up as food service drones."

"Not to mention that this whole idea is completely INSANE!" Lard'Nar barked.

"No, it isn't!" Dib protested, eagerly. "I COULD do it. Give me a chance Sir! I've watched Zim for AGES, and I know lots of..."

Skoodge shook his head. "Er, Dib. I don't suppose you believe you're going to rise to any status in Irken society if you march in there with the intent to become the next Zim, do you?"

The words of Zim's leaders that had started this mess suddenly replayed themselves in Dib's brain, and some of his eagerness ebbed away. There was, however - a personal score to settle with the Irken Empire...and not to mention the fact that this whole mission was simply COOL.

"Of course..." the Vortian mused, mostly to himself "...having a spy planted in the Empire might do us some good." He returned to drumming his fingers, the wheels turning in his head. Really, the only thing about the plan that wasn't sitting well with him was the involvement of the refugee Irken. To accept the creature into their crew was one thing - but to put him in total charge of a major strike was quite another. Dib, however - presented quite a different dilemma. While it was true that the alien certainly was close in shape and size to the average Irken, they were almost totally technological beings. Dib would have to undergo a lot of biological as well as physical changes to fool the Empire into seeing him as one of their own. Judging by his over-excited reaction, this was just something Dib didn't get. He definitely wouldn't sacrifice a soldier without them being fully aware of what they were getting themselves into. "Let's say for a second that we are going to use this idea." the Captain readdressed his audience carefully, pressing forward immediately as he watched Dib's eyes light up. "First of all, I will be conducting the entire operation. ALL of them." he added, looking at Dib. The human's delighted expression quickly turned to a confused frown.

Skoodge got to his feet. "With all due respect Sir, I am the best equipped to recreate Irken equipment. I'm not a true scientist, but I am a soldier, and we are trained in..."

"I'm a Vortian." Lard'Nar reminded him icily. "We built most of your technology."

To his credit, Skoodge did sit down in a hurry, but he also glanced with worry at Dib.

"Second, it's certainly admirable that you are interested in helping us Dib, but I think you need to understand everything you're getting yourself into. This is more than just a disguise and a cool ship."

Dib frowned again, but both Lard'Nar and Skoodge took this as a good sign.

"I think we'll leave our meeting here for today." said the Captain at last. "We'll reconvene at thirty-six hundred tomorrow."

Dib hung back, waiting for Skoodge. The Irken looked more than slightly put out, but approachable nonetheless. Besides that, he absolutely had to understand why everyone seemed to think that this mission was too hard for him.

Skoodge seemed to be expecting that question, or perhaps dreading it, as his antennae flattened to his head at Dib's approach. "I'm sorry Dib, I just don't think that becoming Irken is something you want." he said before the human could say one word of greeting, confirming Dib's suspicions.

"Is that all? I mean - I'm not BECOMING Irken, I'm just...dressing up like one. You didn't become an alien from the planet you conquered, right?"

Skoodge sighed. "Lard'Nar may not trust me, but I'm quite sure he agrees with me on one thing. You don't really know enough about my people to know what you're getting into. I'm not just talking about using Zim as a role model either."

"Then, what are you talking about?" Dib asked, frustrated. He was tired of all this beating around the bush. He just wanted an explanation.

"Where to begin?" Skoodge spread his hands. "To get anywhere near the heart of Irken society, you're going to need to be a soldier, and if not the elite – at least fairly impressive. The training is TOUGH. More importantly, however - presuming you're trained adequately, there's something far more serious." He turned around and pointed over his shoulder at the device attached to his back. Dib knew it well as Zim wore one exactly like it. He'd never really thought about it being more than a mechanical aid however. "This is a Pak. It's attached to my spine, and it's got..." Skoodge struggled to explain himself. "...well, it's my brain."

Dib blinked. He pointed to his head to demonstrate. "...You mean, your brain isn't...here? What's in your head, then?"

"We've got a meat brain in our heads. It's just controlled by the Pak." Skoodge looked thoughtful for a moment. "The Irken lifespan, while physically finite, is mentally infinite. If a Pak is given a new host, the Irken can live on. That's the theory anyway."

"It doesn't work?" Dib asked, temporarily distracted.

"Yes and no. A Pak that attaches itself to a sentient host will manipulate the brain of that creature, at cost to the host's life. Paks do not symbiotically mesh with any other species besides Irken. Furthermore, past attempts to attach a Pak to a new Irken body usually begins well, but ends up causing serious mental defectiveness. Defective Irkens are to be by law erased, however if the Irken lead a good past life, then their data is supposed to go into the collective."

Dib was sincerely confused. "So...what does all this have to do with me?"

Skoodge laughed a little, but it was devoid of humor. "Sorry. I got off on a tangent. Point is, these Paks are like an ID system for Irken society. They're closely monitored in several fashions, both as a data device and also physiologically. If there's something unusual about the Pak, then you're going to have to have it checked and corrected. In the process of that check, any technician would immediately come to the conclusion that you're not really Irken, and your mission would end up being over before it started."

"So...you'll just have to make me a really good Pak then." Dib said.

"I know you're excited about the idea of this Dib, but LISTEN TO ME." Skoodge said. "The Captain fully intends to make you a 'really good Pak'. All of the difficult hacking that's involved aside, it's also going to have to be attached to your spine, and your entire personality will be transferred from your meat brain...to your Pak. Just like an Irken. After that, they're not going to be able to reverse the process."

Dib's face changed, as realization finally dawned on him. "You mean, all that stuff would be permanent?"

"Yep."

"I...see." The human looked at his toes, sitting down heavily in the closest seat and trying to regain his thoughts. Skoodge excused himself quietly and Dib barely noticed. "I'd have to change permanently." he informed the empty room. His voice echoed unnaturally off the walls, but it helped him to think. It really started there, with all the abnormalities he possessed. For a human, he engaged in bizarre behaviors that back on earth had cost him social credibility. He was certainly alienated, even from the other members of his own family. On that note, he fully realized that he didn't have a whole lot to go back to, never mind look forward to... unless of course the Irkens really did decide to attack Earth. Judging by the current situation, this wasn't looking likely.

On the other hand those wedgies, name-calling and occasional recess scuffles were trivial trials and looking pretty appealing when faced with permanent change and a possibly fatal mission.

Again, Dib paused in his thoughts. There was something else too. His whole life he'd been hell-bent on protecting Earth and saving mankind. Mankind didn't need to be saved, and might never again need to be saved in his lifetime. His important mission was for all intents and purposes, over. He could just go home, say he grew out of aliens and paranormal studies, follow in his father's footsteps and become rich and successful. Maybe get a nice girlfriend. How long had he been gone? Perhaps Gretchen had gotten her braces off by now, and she'd always seemed to like him. Or, Zita was pretty cute, and might warm up to him if he said that he was going to start devoting his life to something clever and important...like...uh...

Then, there was Zim. Any way he looked at it, life on Earth hadn't had the same flair before Zim showed up, and nothing he'd done in his father's lab had ever been half as much fun as tinkering with stolen Irken technology from the self-professed Invader's lab. It was hard to view Zim as anything else besides his arch rival, but in the past turn of events that animosity towards Zim no longer made sense. The REST of the Irken empire...well, not Skoodge, but he wasn't a part of the Irken empire anymore either...but those leaders, they were hideous devils and it wouldn't sit easy on his conscience to leave the Resisty to deal with them on their own. Especially not when he could be the only one who could help!

Standing up, angry at himself and his own jumbled up thoughts that ranked of cowardice and indecisiveness, Dib finally turned to leave the war room. He threw open the doors, unsure of how long after the meeting he'd remained, and no closer to a decision than he had been in the first place. A sudden noise like a badly built ship taking off startled him finally out of his concentration, and he looked up in alarm, catching no more than a momentary blur of something as it hit him full force, and bounced off onto the floor.

"BIG HEAD BOY!" GIR leapt up, apparently unfazed by the collision, and invaded Dib's personal space immediately thereafter by throwing his arms around one of the human's legs. "I missed yoooo. I missed yoo bad!" He reached into his head cavity and pulled out what appeared to be individually wrapped slices of processed cheese. "GRRR! CHEESE!"

Dib hadn't really wondered what had happened to the robot, he'd just assumed that GIR had been dismantled after their arrival. It didn't surprise Dib when the stupid thing started wailing up a storm either. Screaming and crying wildly, GIR hugged Dib's leg tighter still. "I miss my Master....I MISS MY MASTER!" A second later, and the SIR unit was all smiles again, calmly eating the cheese. Dib took the opportunity to escape, but for once GIR had made sense, in some strange way.

He missed Zim too. And after all, wasn't that why he was here in the first place?

---

**Author's Notes:**

Mighty Crap, that took long. Real Life caught up with me, but since I'm looking forward to the next chapter, maybe it won't take so long to get out. Also, some shameless advertising for those that read these things: I've got the first chapter of the ZADR fic up: "The Only Way is Up".

Guess I don't have much left to say, but hope the chapter was an alright read. REAL SCIENCE is consuming my life at present (read: Finals) so, expect much longer waits between chapters....


	8. Chapter Eight

**Title:** Frequency  
**Author:** Mizander  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Disclaimer: **Honestly now, do I have to keep coming up with witty ways to tell you it ain't mine? Jhonen and Nickolodeon and all those other people own it.

**Chapter 8:**

Machines beeped in a steady rhythm as bright white lights glinted off of surgical steel. The subject lay prostrate, naked in more ways than one, as clamps and hooks kept the soft flesh peeled away from the bones, enabling the alien equipment to access organs and sinew. The consistent chirp and hum of the vital sign monitor was the only proof that the creature lying on the table was in any way still alive. A few individuals working in the field, or several brave enough to satisfy their curiosity peered as close as they were allowed in such a facility, marveling at the pulsating innards of a species that was not their own. This was the kind of experience Dib lived for, had wanted to experience his whole life - and there he was, missing it. Well, not entirely, but his version of events hadn't involved HIM being the test subject in question.

For the fifth time in as many minutes, Lard'Nar had to pause in his work. Dib was not an easy subject to work on. Although humans were physically similar to Irkens, their innards were infinitely more complex. Besides this, Dib was reacting negatively to the anesthesia, shifting in his chemical induced sleep. Fortunately for him, this quirk had been discovered early, forcing the scientists to tie him down during their operation proceedings. Lard'Nar had expected the operation to be a simpler procedure with far more complex results, but one look at all those organs and everything had needed a rework.

Unlike an Irken, whose Pak could maneuver brain signals basically through attachment to the creature's spine, the human's version had to be wired directly to a specific part of it's actual meat brain in order to achieve the desired effect. It took real surgical work to attach the connections accordingly, and still more to secure them, no matter how the human moved. After the personality download took place, even one small change to that connection could effectively render Dib nothing more than a drooling vegetable. Lard'Nar still felt proud of himself for not making a few choice commentaries on the Irken race as a whole as he made this particular pronouncement to the operation team. Attaching the connections to other systems that would get in the way such as Dib's digestive tract and heart-rate were at least, comparatively simple tasks.

When the connections had been made, and tests were done to ensure their security, the pink and white dotted Pak was set into the appropriate position on the body. This should have been the easy part, but new troubles arose almost immediately. Two small chunks of skin and muscle had been removed entirely from Dib's back so that the new appendage could attach itself firmly to the spine, as it would on an Irken. It became evident however that while an Irken had amazing regenerative powers that could heal that wound effortlessly, the human had no such abilities. The wounds remained open, no matter how long the Vortian waited.

The delicate work of reconstructing Dib's flesh around the pak attachments proved to be difficult. Now that the machine was attached, it would not move, and the Vortian spent more long hours carefully piecing synthetic replacements in like a puzzle. Irken hormones were injected into the prone subject, fortunately having the desired effect, as the wounds began to heal more quickly.

This accomplished, it would be several hours before the effects of the anesthetic would leave the human's system, and until then - the crew waited.

* * *

It was nearing five hours, when Dib's eyes finally slid open. He blinked once, twice, gave a soft groan and a second later shot bolt upright, sitting stiff and straight as a board. 

"Personality Transfer Started!" snapped a cold female voice from his Pak.

Lard'Nar nodded, excitedly. This meant it was working so far. He waited until Dib's posture relaxed, and then asked tentatively, "How are you feeling?"

There was a tense moment as Dib sat there, unseeing, but suddenly the connection clicked. "I...feel GREAT!" Dib winced a bit. "Okay, my back's a bit sore, and I feel...kinda weighed down, but this is incredible!" Tentatively, he attempted to get off of the bed, but the Vortian was instantly by his side, pushing him firmly back into the mattress. "No, you need rest. You won't have to sleep any longer, but you will still need time to heal."

Reluctantly, Dib sat back down, understanding the importance of this at least. That, and his back was aching considerably. As Lard'Nar exited, Skoodge entered, choosing to ignore the Vortian's look of considerable mistrust and giving Dib a short wave. He was carrying with him a myriad of notes. These he inserted into Dib's hands, and the human was surprised to discover that they were all printed in Irken. Unlike his previous encounter on Tak's ship, however - he could read each one as though he'd spoken the language for years.

"This is incredible!" Dib was all excitement again. "I mean - I can read all of this stuff now. It's like the Matrix!" When Skoodge gave him a confused look, he shook his head. "Sorry. Earth thing, I guess." he made a mental note to keep the pop culture stuff to a minimum from now on.

"This is a list of notes I thought you could use on your mission." Skoodge explained. "From what I've been allowed to hear," and here the Irken scowled considerably, "Irken History has been downloaded into your Pak, but you'll be missing the current events and newer customs."

Dib nodded, casting his mind around briefly and finding that indeed, this information was true. He did know quite a bit about Irken History. He tried to occupy himself with reading over the notes, but began almost instantly to feel that they were almost pointless. Yes, of course he knew that Irkens were proud - whatever Skoodge had to say about Zim not being the ideal Irken, he was certainly a very good example of that. Military race, oh yes...he knew these things.

Eventually, after one final warning to read the information he'd been given and a promise to come back for Irken Military basics the next day, Skoodge left him to his readings, and allowed him to heal. Dib was steadily growing more impatient, wanting desperately to be off on his mission, wanting to put his alien technology to even better experimentation. The papers rested, untouched on at the side of his bed as he began the far more entertaining task of discovering all he knew about the Irken race. After all, he reasoned - he didn't have to sleep any more. He could read Skoodge's notes after he was finished healing.

* * *

It seemed like an eternity until Skoodge's return, but when the Irken finally arrived, Dib was more than ready to go. It was a further shock to him when he discovered that they theoretically weren't actually 'going' anywhere. He had leapt off the bed feeling terrific, rested, and ready to begin a strain of rigorous activity. Naturally he'd tried beforehand to mentally prepare himself for what difficult training would entail, and had come up with Working out, obstacle courses and drills, the various sorts of things that the human schema of "military training" included. 

Instead, he was only lead a few rooms down the hall from his own, inside of which there was a desk and oddly curved stool, along with a rounded helmet that strongly resembled motorcycle protective gear. Protruding from the back of the helmet were several long extension cords, with what Dib deduced were interfacing plugs on the ends.

Skoodge motioned for him to take a seat, which he did awkwardly, eventually straddling the seat. The reason for the shape of the chair became apparent as the helmet was placed on his head, and he had just enough peripheral vision around the visor to see Skoodge picking up the cords to attach them into his new Pak. This was the last thing that Dib saw before the front of the helmet went dark, and suddenly he was no longer aboard the Resisty ship.

* * *

It was definitely living the dream of every science fiction fan. That was Dib's first thought as he took a look at his new surroundings; the cockpit of an Irken ship. He was already familiar with the controls, although they were slightly different from Tak's. Testing his versatility, he found that he could move freely within this space, as though this was reality. 

The whole experience was so cool, it really WAS like being in one of the Matrix movies. He wished he could show it to Gaz. Despite her complete disinterest in everything besides video games, she'd been the closest thing to a friend he'd had. Besides that, she would understand what he was talking about. Although the Resisty soldiers were kind and sincerely appreciated his presence and input, they did lack humanity and couldn't understand him on that level. He just would never have the best of both worlds.

Dib took a deep breath and let it out slowly, willing himself to let his past go. He knew he really couldn't afford to be thinking like that anymore - he had a real mission now. He reminded himself that he was a soldier, fighting for a cause. His surroundings and situation had changed, and he couldn't afford to let that deter him.

As though sensing this change in attitude, the console before him began to hum, the navigational console blinking into life, and an electronic voice echoed around the cockpit. "Performing ID Check. Irken Dib, are you prepared to begin flight training simulation?"

Dib automatically replied "Yes.", and had only a moment to feel proud of his lack of hesitation before the simulation itself started, plunging him headlong into explanations and corresponding tests.

The first thing he discovered of the experience was that the technical understanding of how to do things correctly and accurately were easily remembered, stored in his Pak almost instantly, but it did not necessarily give him the corresponding motor ability. In other words, it was as though he was memorizing a textbook, then immediately expected to put the knowledge to work. No wonder Irkens spent so many years in their training facilities.

The second thing he discovered was that the training was, just as Skoodge had said, rigorous. Despite the fact that he knew full well he hadn't moved from his chair in the little room, when the helmet finally went dark, and was removed from his eyes, he felt as though he had run a marathon. He wanted to collapse back in the chair, but the odd backless thing wouldn't allow for it. Skoodge came back into his view and began staring deep into the interior of the helmet for a few moments.

"This says here that your piloting and firing skills are decent, but your strategic maneuvers could use a lot more work." the Irken informed him. "We'll take a quick break to eat, and come back for another session after that."

Dib wanted to protest, he must have been in there for hours on end, but he resolutely shut his mouth. At least however, Skoodge had mentioned food. "Hey, can I get some..." He paused. He'd been about to ask for water, but he was quickly finding that it had been a knee-jerk reaction. He didn't need water at all. In fact, all of that snack food was actually sounding much more appetizing now…

* * *

It had been five whole sessions before Skoodge had approved of his tactical decision making skills, and Dib was thankful that his high-scores had met with the Irken's approval, as he was feeling considerably drained. It wasn't over, however - a new simulation - ground tactics this time was plugged in right after, and he found himself contending with a whole new ream of information. Fortunately for him, this particular session was easier to cope with mentally, as it tended to feature military practices he was far more familiar with. 

This procedure - train and break went on so long that Dib began to lose all sense of time - it was always the same. Train until whenever the end of the program was, then wait while Skoodge analyzed things, then just enough time for him to feel rested until a new regime was started. What made the whole experience daunting and almost surreal wasn't the alien nature of the equipment or the information, or even the Pak and physiological changes to his body - it was simply the knowledge that he wasn't even experiencing a half of what a real Irken was expected to go through.

When Skoodge finally announced that the simulation he'd just undertaken had been the last, Dib felt almost impossibly relieved. There were still so many things that didn't involve his training that he needed to wrap his head around. He hadn't slept in days, but then - he didn't need to. He hadn't a clue how many days, weeks or maybe even months had passed since he first began his training, and he wasn't sure he wanted to know either. And then, there was the fact that he hadn't thought about Zim in days. All of these things hit Dib like a ton of bricks, but he wasn't given time to think about them just yet. A more important and pressing matter was at hand, namely - his disguise.

Despite the Pak and the changes to his biology which were rapidly becoming more numerous and apparent, he still very much considered himself human. Nevertheless, this was the part of the whole mission that he had been waiting for. There was a certain thrill to not only the undercover aspect, but - for the first time in his life, he would be acceptable in a society. Just like everyone else. He wasn't sure if that was really something to get excited about, but on top of everything else, it really was the least of his concerns.

The disguise did indeed turn out to be the easiest part of the transformation, as Dib was outfitted with a small metal electronic device that attached to his head. After a few moments, he remembered where he had last seen it - on Tak when she had been out of her human disguise. At least he knew what that was now. Lard'Nar bent close to Dib, making changes to the controls, then handed Dib a set of standard Irken clothing, exactly the same as Zim's and Skoodge's and the other Irkens he'd seen on the bridge of the Massive.

After changing into them, Dib came back to look in the mirror provided - there he stood, skinny kid with messy black hair, and that strange looking backpack, alien device attached to his forehead and wearing the Irken uniform. It was a little disappointing, as he really just looked as though he'd raided Zim's closet. As he was thinking this, Lard'Nar came up beside him and switched the disguise device on. The image in the mirror blurred momentarily, as though it was a bad television reception, and suddenly a different creature entirely stood in Dib's place.

Green skin, smooth (and slightly smaller) bald head with long thin antennae protruding from the scalp, large oval purple eyes, and razor sharp teeth. Dib looked down at his hands - they now only had three fingers, and they ended in pointed claws, not round fingertips.

Dib looked around at the rest of the Resisty. Skoodge was shaking his head, almost disbelievingly, but there was a bit of a smile on his face. "What...do I do now?"

"Now," began Lard'Nar. "Your mission truly begins."

* * *

**  
Author's Notes:**

Yep, that took forever. I have no excuse except Real Life. Next time: well…I think the last line of this chapter explains what next time is about.


	9. Chapter Nine

**Title:** Frequency  
**Author:** Mizander  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Summary:** When the Tallests concoct a sick plot to rid themselves of Zim once and for all, Dib goes on a rescue mission. Meantime, the Resisty recruits new members, as the battlegrounds for the war of the Universe is laid.  
**Disclaimer:** insert creative way to say that Jhonen Vasquez/Nickolodeon, etc. own Zim, not me.

**Chapter Nine  
**

Dib had been impatient to leave the Resisty base and head out on his mission once the disguise had been activated fully and proven fool-proof to Irken equipment, but Skoodge had insisted more training be done. Though perhaps a minor detail, Dib had noticed that the alien no longer relied on simulators and holographic lessons, but instead the two took to the void of space regularly in order to learn the subtle nuances of offensive and defensive flight in real-live situations. Perhaps it was because Dib now had a good grasp of the basics, but he held his suspicions that Skoodge still retained, if merely subconsciously some vestiges of Irken prejudice.

Whatever the reason was, the days and nights of Mozmen were beginning to blur as the two worked tirelessly to mold Dib into a foolproof imitation of a fully functional appendage to the Irken Machine. Like an unnecessary luxury feature on a car dashboard, he was there to appease those who might judge, but ultimately cost more anguish than it was worth.

It had seemed like forever before Skoodge had finally judged him worthy enough to leave, but Dib felt that he had been ready for ages. Lard'Nar marched up to him in the docking bay, looking him over appraisingly.

"Take that damn disguise off!" he barked suddenly, his face twisting into an expression of loathing. Dib reached up and switched the device off with a bit of surprise. He hadn't realized he'd not bothered to remove it after all of this time.

"Sorry Sir." Dib apologized.

Lard'Nar relaxed. "Better." He said gruffly. "Now. We've made some further modifications to your ship, based off of Shloonktapooxis' recent reconnaissance. We've designed it to look, at least outwardly more like the Voot model most prominently used by Empire soldiers." He gestured over his shoulder to the purple ship, which now sported a slightly more rounded thruster design, and a second, smaller dome in the back.

Before Dib could say any kind of thank you, they were joined by Skoodge, who announced his presence by handing Dib two small chips.

"That is your connection to us." Lard'Nar cut in again, preventing Skoodge from saying anything. "You wear that black one in your ear, and place that blue one somewhere near your eyes - it's a video feed. It runs on a special frequency, developed by a famous scientist who was captured when our Planet was taken. The Irkens, to our knowledge know nothing of this, so we should be able to communicate with you, and to a certain extent - you with us."

Skoodge cut in, his voice rising demandingly. "And be careful what you say when you want to make contact with us." he paused for a quick breath, then barreled on before Lard'Nar could cut in again. "Irken dwellings and planets in general are monitored at ALL times, so it will look suspicious and...defective if you start talking aloud to someone who is not there. I would not presume you to be so foolish to use our names."

Apparently having had enough of Skoodge, Lard'Nar wrested the course of the debriefing back into his own hands. "You will have to use your actions to let us know what exactly you plan on doing, and we will have to decipher them accordingly. We will give you instructions or tell you to stop if it looks as though you are about to do something that will land you in trouble."

Dedicated as he was to the intimate details of his mission, Dib could not help but notice that the tension that had been percolating between the Irken refugee and the Vortian leader since Skoodge had arrived on the ship, was now thick enough to cut with a knife. The aliens both liked Dib well enough, and both had put plenty of effort into helping him prepare. He would have to have been a drooling moron not to realize that any agreement between the two was not a mutual friendship, but for the good of the mission. In short, because he was there to cause mediation, either purposely or unwittingly.

Dib couldn't help but wonder what would happen to their relationship after he was gone.

* * *

Dib looked up as the ship's screen announced that they would be making planet fall in about 30 minutes. Sure enough, the planet Devastis glittered in front of him, a thousand tiny lights and spires and Irken dwellings. It was beautiful, in it's own way, though for a moment Dib had never felt further from Earth. 

The COM link sputtered to life, a burst of static, and suddenly Skoodge's voice filled his auditory perceptions as though the Irken was sitting next to him, talking close into his ear.

"Okay then Dib, the first thing you'll be doing is docking your ship in Bay 5. Captain Lard'Nar has taken the liberty of setting you a space."

Under Skoodge's direction, Dib navigated into the hangar bay, and sure enough found his 'parking spot'. The ship was quickly locked down, and a quick scan of his hand proved that the purple-eyed Irken called 'Dib', whose Voot cruiser had always, to the knowledge of that particular computer, occupied Parking Space number 342 in Docking Bay 5. Skoodge informed him that his dwelling would have the same number.

Remembering to keep his mouth shut and not ask questions, Skoodge guided him shakily through the many twisting passageways that lead to the heart of Devastis, the Irken Soldier educational plug. His Irken Pak thankfully picked up and stored the correct route, and Dib found himself with new appreciation for the thing. He was just starting to feel comfortable when a long green arm, ending in a black gloved claw threw itself in his path. Dib looked up, to see a tall Irken with a sour expression.

"Hold up there Soldier, and join the line."

Dib almost turned to walk away, but a frantic cry of "That's the General! Salute him you fool!" from Skoodge prompted him to do exactly that. The General saluted in return, then directed Dib once more to the back of the ever-growing lineup of Irkens.

As far back as he was, Dib found himself unable to see exactly what was going on. The line moved quickly enough, and in the space between progression, each of the Irkens ahead of him stood perfectly still, so Dib did as well. It wasn't until he got to second from the front that he was actually able to see what this line was really for.

Two long uplink cables extracted themselves from the computer and hooked into the pak of the red-eyed Irken in front of him. The name of the Irken (Nirg), a large one-eyed symbol representative of the soldier class and numbers denoting the entry-test high scores blinked up on the screen. The soldier hung there for a moment, until the word 'approved' flashed in Irken across the profile, and the cables relaxed, allowing Nirg to fall back to the ground, salute the General, and enter the facility.

Dib's heartbeat sped up. This was it. He stepped forward and a second later, felt himself lifted off the ground as Nirg had been before him. In a brief pause that seemed to carry on for ages, he was sure he could hear his heart fluttering with nervous energy.

There was a gasp behind him, and Dib began to panic. He wanted to twist himself around to see what the problem was, but the cables wouldn't let him. He glanced, fearfully at the General, but the large Irken looked more confused than anything else.

"That's an incredible high score, Soldier Dib!" he barked. "You'd think I would remember a smeet like you..."

And then, to Dib's relief, the computer flashed with the 'approved' go-ahead, and it was with fervor that Dib saluted. The General seemed to like that too, and judging from the dull roar of applause that could be heard in his ear-chip frequency, the Resisty was rather pleased with their technical prowess. Dib felt a greatly intensified sense of respect for them himself.

* * *

There was no time for Dib to celebrate his first small victory, as the last of the line passed it's inspection and they were marched along rank-and-file through the hallways. They spent a small amount of time in a cafeteria area, where Dib tentatively ate some nachos and received an opportunity to practice his cover story to a group of somewhat awed Irkens, Nirg from the security line among them.

"Pretty impressive high-scores!" the shorter Irken breathed, and several of the others sitting near him nodded in agreement. "But I guess you would have pretty good scores...after all, you're kinda tall, aren't you?"

Dib glanced around, while he tried to decide how to respond. Around him, the subject of high-scores was on everyone's lips - who had received what, who was going to beat whose rank.

"Uh, well I just transferred here when I passed the fir...primary plug test." he corrected himself at a hiss from Skoodge in his ear. "So, um...I guess I'll just have to see if I can beat some of you guys when I take my first...plug tests today." he added, drawing on some of the conversation around him.

Nirg nodded, sighing. "Well...I don't know if I'll be here much longer. My high-scores aren't all that great - I guess you saw. They're okay, but not really for Invader-class." he paused and gave Dib a long look. "Something the matter?"

Dib started, and closed his mouth. When Skoodge had told him on Mozmen that to complete his mission fully, he'd need to be in the elite rank of soldiers, it had never really registered that first-class meant, for all intents and purposes, an 'Invader'.

"Uh...sorry. Just...got a bit of chip lodged in my squeedily spooch." Skoodge was fast becoming his personal hero. "Go on." He prompted.

"Right. Well, all I was going to say is tht they're talking of moving me over to the Massive, in the snack-bays. It's an HONOR to be so close to the Tallest, of course..." Dib's heart leapt. "...but I suppose I'll never see them working that low. If your scores stay that way though, wow, you could get to MEET them even!"

Dib nodded. The conversation turned once again to high-scores, and Dib was relieved that he was able to join in a little bit, recounting the tests he'd done with Skoodge. At the end of the break period, Dib put his tray with the others and headed off to flight simulation with a renewed sense of hope for his mission.

As Skoodge was directing Dib to his position, a horrible weight settled into the pit of his stomach. Everyone was under the impression that he was some kind of incredible soldier - and he had to stay in this plug thing in order to get near the Tallest. But what if those scores in the Pak had been programmed in by Lard'Nar and the hackers? Skoodge had out-flown him in every single practice endeavor, and he could do all those neat loops and twists. He couldn't ask now, however - that was the last thing he needed - to get discovered for talking to himself.

The simulation began and Crossing his fingers, Dib took to the skies.

* * *

About five minutes in, he was starting to panic. These guys were good. It was all he could do to stay in the game. It occurred to him, Zim had not been as pathetic as he'd seemed - but Zim had also been easily distracted. Every one of these Irkens was completely and utterly focused with a machine mindset, on the destruction of him and his squadron. 

The Irken in the position opposite his own had begun to seriously dog him, and it was only through Skoodge's instructions that he managed to avoid the fire. There was one bonus, however - with every successful maneuver, the high score numbers in the lower corner of his screen increased a little as well.

In the split second he'd taken to look at them, however- a shot whizzed by, too close for comfort. In horror, Dib realized that he'd just narrowly missed piloting into someone else's crossfire. Skoodge cursed in his ear, and in the view screen he could see the enemy ship in front of him, cornering him with no discernible escape route.

The noise in the earpiece lowered to a mere buzz in his ear, but in that white noise, he remembered something. Desperately, he wrenched the ship's control stick a quarter of the way to the left and pulled back while firing his front cannons.

He missed his target entirely, and the simulation ended. His heart and stomach felt like lead in his chest. With any luck, he'd be sent to the Massive 'snack bay' with Nirg. In his ear, the volume returned to normal and his heart sank further. He could hear them yelling. He hoped they wouldn't land all the blame on Skoodge.

"WHEOW! That was cool. TELL ME that wasn't cool!"

Dib started violently at the sudden burst of noise in his ear, before identifying Shloontapooxis' voice and calming down. He had to stop himself before he said anything aloud.

"...DIB! You were amazing!" yelled Lard'Nar, who apparently was crowding Skoodge to the speaker - if the protests in the foreground were any indication.

Again, Dib was forced to merely arrange his face into a neutral look, paranoid about being watched by Irken cameras.

He peered at the lower corner of the screen. The number was big, but he hadn't seen his own scores - so he wasn't sure what that could mean. Perhaps he'd beaten it - evidently he'd done SOMETHING right. Then, he saw lines of text that he hadn't noticed before – comments from other soldiers, and…a log of all maneuvers performed during the course of the simulation. According to the last line - he'd - out of sheer dumb luck - taken out the opposing squadron's commander.

Yeah, he could afford to be proud of himself for the next little while. Luck be damned.

* * *

As it turned out, there barely was any time to feel proud of himself, as their General soon returned to usher them off to yet another test, and after that - another. It was alternately dull and nerve-wracking, the worst possible combination. 

"Remember soldiers!" the large, spear-carrying Irken barked, as they lined up once more after completing a long stealth mission. Dib longed to groan. After the activites, he sorely wished to rest and think, but he dared not move. Not when all the other soldiers were standing around him, perfectly stiff and straight as boards. "Tomorrow, the Tallest will be choosing Soldiers for Operation Meekrob!"

Dib's heart gave a leap. He hadn't expected to be seeing the Tallest this soon into the mission. Already his brain began formulating plans. He could end this early.

"Dismissed" was the next word he heard from the Irken superior's mouth, and Dib came back to reality with a jolt. He'd been so distracted by the excitement of being able to end his mission this early and efficiently that he'd completely missed when his break was over. To his ultimate surprise, his pak kicked in, informing him of the accurate information that it had taken in while he'd been otherwise occupied.

Dib breathed out a sigh as he let himself into his assigned quarters. He'd made it through the first "day". What ever was coming up next, he was now sure he could take it.

* * *

Skoodge breathed a sigh of relief as he watched Dib sit down and open a snack bag. That was their agreed upon signal that promised he would remain in his quarters until the Soldiers were called back to training. He turned to Lard'Nar, who was busying himself making repairs and modifications to the power core of their ship. 

"I'm going to go check on Zim." he said. Privately, he thought that the only thing that would make Zim even willing to speak to the Resisty, let alone change his mind was the intervention of a fellow Irken. Besides, he was not about to give up on his new purpose in life. Skoodge could make the Resisty see his point of view, appreciate him as an asset instead of a dangerous liability.

"Fine." snapped the Captain, without looking up. "But take Spleenk with you."

Skoodge fought his frustration, deciding that the situation could be worse. Spleenk had never seemed to share his Captain's prejudice, and they actually made small talk as they walked together down to Zim's cell.

They knew something was wrong the second they entered. There were bits of the metal bars scrapped all over the place, hunks of earth and debris from the walls were shattered in an unnecessary display of destruction across the floor. The whole mess had 'Zim' written all over it. One quick look into the now empty cell confirmed Skoodge's suspicions – the prisoner was nowhere in sight.

No further discussion was necessary - both turned and high tailed it back to the main base. Spleenk told the Captain, and Skoodge could see the Vortian's mind working on how he was going to pin the incident on him. Of course, Skoodge had been directing Dib all day in plain view of every single Resisty soldier.

"How much of a head start does he have on us?" Lard'Nar asked eventually, once he had decided that finger pointing would get him nowhere.

"Depends on when he got out." Skoodge said. "However, since he spent extra time to wreck the hold as thoroughly as he could, even if he got out seconds after we last checked on him, he'd likely only have about two to four hours as a head start."

Spleenk spoke up hopefully. "But your leaders are planning to destroy him on sight, right? So maybe he won't even get to tell them anything of any importance."

"Probably." Skoodge said, thoughtfully. "Though he may have enough time to give them just enough vital information..."

"Okay." Lard'Nar said. "We'll send out a group to go after him. I don't care if you kill him, or bring him back alive, but your goal is to prevent him from taking ANY information about our location back to the Irken Empire. Bring him back alive IF you can, but only if it's a feasible option. I still want to try and question him."

As if reading Skoodge's thoughts, he rounded on him. "You, are NOT going. I need you here to look after Dib."

Orders were given and Resisty soldiers scrambled to give Zim chase, but not a one of them noticed the pair of red eyes that peered from the darkness of a small rift in the base rock wall.

Zim nodded to himself from his hiding spot. The FOOLS had fallen for his diversion. Nothing could prevent him from going back to Irk and destroying the Tallest before they could cause the Empire any more harm.

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

Well long wait, wasn't it. I'm sorry – Real Life Zim Fanfic. But now that Real Life has given me a little breather, I do intend on finishing this thing. It hasn't faded off into the depths of oblivion.

Enjoy the chapter – and the next chapter of 'The Only Way Is Up' will soon follow. I've been BUSY.


End file.
